Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Myyyyy baby

I came to the sudden realization that I am head over heels in love with our baby Tommy because he is my baby. He is my baby in a way that even my future grandchildren or nephews or friends' babies will never be. I am responsible for his care and protection at a most intense level… with all the good and bad that entails. The bad is the most obvious crying, having a hard time sleeping reliably at all, being really incredibly needy and wanting to be in my lap ALL.THE.TIME, crawling toward me whenever he sees me or hears my voice, waking up at night, etc etc. 

The good is that he is mine and I am his in a way that gradually wears off. I look at my two-year-old Davy boy who is incredibly handsome and charming and sometimes I see a grown boy or a man in him and I'm terrified. I think, who is this PERSON that is coming into view here?! The mystery that is unraveling is more apparent. 

But Tommy…? He's more like a fashion acessory that is on my hip wherever I go. Or a pet I can fatten up and wash so that he's sweet-smelling and will make me want to kiss him more. I can dress him up how I want, feed him how I want, squish his cheeks and kiss his hands do rasberries on his neck… because he likes it all. He adores me. It's incredibly flattering. I know his every coo and cry. I just have to make a little sound effect and he laughs. It's like we have a secret language. It's this weird, instinctual, protective love that makes him myyyy baby. It reminds me of when I played dolls as a kid. 

And if, God forbid, he ever grows up into a little charming, rebellious man like his older brother… well, I just might have to get another baby. 

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