Be careful what you wish for

It's 7:41 p.m. As I write, Ryker is screaming in his crib at the top of his lungs. Judge if you will. Don't feel guilty about it. I judge all of your parenting skills. Isn't that what mothers do to one another? A way to justify the other morning when I accidentally snipped his finger when clipping his nails? It helps boost our own motherly esteem, inching us closer to earning the 'World's Greatest Mom' coffee mug.

I'm the mom, when asked the ever popular question that goes hand in hand with, "Are you nursing?" and "Is he teething?"... "Is he sleeping through the night?" My response since he was six weeks old came in an apologetic (with hidden graciousness and a wee bit of conceit) tone, "We are so lucky. He has always been a good sleeper."

Well, I have untaught the act of soothing himself to sleep... (I just caved and went up to read him a couple of stories) He is still crying, doing what I wished he would - Crying when I put him down and holding his arms out for me. Be careful what you wish for.

As I tried to rekindle those snuggles I feel I was cheated in those early days because he slept well on his own, I realize it isn't all it's cracked up to be. That's an understatement.

In an act to reclaim my infant as a newborn, I lost my will to leave him be at the slightest peep. Selfishly wanting to run to his rescue, scoop him up and smother myself in his needing his mommy. Well, it worked and now I kick myself in the ass and as he's left up there "abandoned" as I once again enforce that "bedtime is sleep time" - The lesson we studied and passed months ago.

Why would I do this to all of us?

(Wait... he stopped. 8:03 p.m.) Exhale. (Heading up to have a peak to make sure everything is OK. You always check in when things go quiet.)

So it's really not bad. I can say that now, right? Because he is asleep.

Phew. Now I can be that mom again. Ask me if he's sleeping through the night.

"Well, he's having a hard time getting to sleep lately, but we're so lucky he sleeps through the night."

I couldn't resist.

2.8.12

In those times you're supposed to be asleep...

Did I mention how I embrace the moment in the glow of the hallway light when you rest your head on my left shoulder and then bring your arm up to grip around my other with your tiny, warm hand?

3.8.12

Ready to take on the world

Before Ryker was born I knew he was eager and ready to take on the world.

The loud noise of drums, the dog's bark and trucks racing by our main street home thrill him. He loves to be scared. The more you can make him jump out of his skin, the bigger the squeal.

He gets this from his Uncle Joe. At nine months old he's already always looking for an adventure. You can truly see in his eyes him yearn for the next chapter. He longs to catch up with the "big kids". I long to hold him back. 

My husband coaxed him to get crawling and I would say, "Why does he need to crawl when he can lie on his back and mommy will bring him whatever he needs?"

Now that he crawls he longs to run.

His daddy stands behind him, holding his hands high above his head teaching him to "walk like a dinosaur" and I joke, "The moment he takes his first step I'm going to push him over."

In the lake, he strokes his arms and kicks his legs as if he would take off if we let go. We tried, he can't.

Ryker's first meal. "I got this, mom."

He's the boy that wanted to use his spoon the first time he ate, the baby whose eyes grow wilder the higher in the air you toss him and the kid who will insist on tying his shoes every time.

I've said before how important it is to me that in parenting and loving him I give him life experiences, but that doesn't mean I am not terrified of the day he takes that upon himself and pulls into our driveway on a motorcycle, YouTube's a video jumping from a plane in Peru or emails us a photo of him surfing the Great Barrier Reef.

2.8.12

On my side

I was checking out the living conditions in the claustrophobic small second floor of the aircraft. My husband and son were among the other passengers on board sitting in their seats a floor below. The plane took a big smooth turn to the right and then plummeted in slow spirals toward the ground. I could literally feel the drop as my stomach rose up into my throat, which is weird because it was a dream. As I continued to fall it went silent and there was a sudden calm. As dreams go, I woke up just before we hit.

I was sleeping on the couch and awoke from the nightmare just as my husband stood above me at nearly 4 a.m. asking me what the hell I was doing on the couch. He sleeps soundly any other night we've had an argument, but tonight's different for him. He's had enough. "You don't get your own way, so you pout all night?" he yelled. "Now you hate me so much you can't even sleep next to me!"

There it was. Yet, another breakthrough in our ten-year-long relationship. Those ones that, just when it's slipping hard and fast, you drop the bullshit, give in and fall deeper in love. 

Me not getting my way escalated into him not being on my side and then into us not wanting the same things. How would we make it? 

In reality: He's logical and I'm the spoiled brat that didn't get her way. So... I'm still working on the whole "compromise" thing that comes with marriage. Ugh. I hate that!

What I love are my boys. 

I'm on board, seated next to them in the world that to me, revolves around them.

Years ago I was talking to a buddy about marriage and that I would never get married. I questioned, "If you were truly in love, what are the chances that two people are compatible enough to grow and change, as everyone does, together." He said, "That's the point. You have to love that person enough to grow and change with them through all of those years."  I just remembered this. I love this. To that buddy: Happy 1st Anniversary this month!
1.8.12