Monday, November 02, 2009
Halloween
It's been a while since I have posted. We had a momentary setback with the computer... an orange screen of death. We were able to rule out hard drive and screen malfunctions and concluded it had something to do with the graphics card (Thanks for your help, Nathan). Thanks to Apple Care, we are back on line without being any poorer.Last Saturday, we headed down to 72nd in the park for the annual Pumpkin Festival. It was raining, but we got some free pumpkins. New Yorkers love free stuff.
So Halloween... not my favorite holiday... but I do enjoy a good get together with friends. We actually had 3 parties to attend... 2 for JH and one for us, but really when you get one of us you get all :) Since I am not much of a Halloween person, I opt for simple costumes. We were the C, N and J subway lines. JH is so freakin adorable it doesn't matter what he wears. And since he's too young to know what Halloween is or care what he is dressed as, I took advantage of that. There will be plenty of years to come when he does care. He made a great J train.
So Halloween... not my favorite holiday... but I do enjoy a good get together with friends. We actually had 3 parties to attend... 2 for JH and one for us, but really when you get one of us you get all :) Since I am not much of a Halloween person, I opt for simple costumes. We were the C, N and J subway lines. JH is so freakin adorable it doesn't matter what he wears. And since he's too young to know what Halloween is or care what he is dressed as, I took advantage of that. There will be plenty of years to come when he does care. He made a great J train.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Autumn inauguration
We left the city the other day with the intention of picking apples but took a (lame) hayride and picked out a pumpkin instead. JH had a good time with the pumpkins, and I wasn't pulling my hair out trying to keep track of him and pick apples at the same time. I did pick up some apples at the farm store before I left though. I like fall... especially when I can still wear short sleeves and feel the warm sun on my face while basking in all of Autumn's Awesomeness.Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Domestication
I just increased my domestic goddess factor by tenfold last week by canning tomatoes. Thanks to Carrie for bringing over the big pot, Hepworth Farms for the 50 pounds of Roma Tomatoes and the grocery store in Jersey for having Ball jars. We canned our brains out. My mom would be proud.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Thursday, September 03, 2009
I just love him
Every night, we walk into our bedroom in the dark using our cell phones as a flashlights. We peek at our sleeping little boy. Sometimes he is smashed against the rails with a leg or two dangling out, sometimes he just lay there in perfect repose. I can't help but stare at this miraculous little creation, and I also can't help but get a little emotional every time. Cameron and I look at each other and mouth the words, "I just love him." It's a nightly ritual before we move him to his other bed in the living room where he will sleep out the rest of the night. Cameron usually carries him, and he lay motionless and peaceful in his arms, only the rise and fall of his chest indicating he's still very healthy and alive. I follow with blanket in hand. Before Cameron lays him in his bed, I kiss my son's forehead, lay my cheek gently on his and whisper, "I love you sweet boy." Cameron does the same and lowers him into his bed. I cover him with his blanket, take one last look and walk toward my room. Every night I am reminded of what a special gift he is, and every night I love him a little more.
Last night I moved him myself since Cameron was gone. It wasn't the first time nor will it be the last, but many more thoughts came to mind as I picked up my slumbering child. He's gotten so big in his year of life. I remember once when we first brought him home and he slept in the laundry basket. He's much too big for that now. When I see him in his crib sprawled out and unaware of my lurking presence, he reminds me of a little boy more than the baby he used to be. I held him in my arms for a moment and as I slowly walked toward the living room, and pang of reality swept in. He won't always be your baby boy, it says. It won't be long before you can't carry him in your arms and he stops looking for your hand when he runs down the hall. He won't worship you the way he does now. I ask reality to stop with the madness. Say it isn't so. But it continues. One day he will not tell you everything and perhaps when he is a teenager, you will just be his mom instead of the center of his ever enlarging universe. And then someday he will grow up and move away. My heart is in my throat. The tears begin to well up in my eyes, and again I ask reality to stop telling me things I already know. I continue with my whisperings and kisses, lay him in his bed and linger a little longer. As I walk back into my room, my heart is full, and I wonder if every mother feels this way or if it's just the mother of little boys or if it's just me. I just love him.
He's walking now, which means independence. He takes off on his own sometimes, but he still turns to look for me. Sometimes he still wants my finger, and I happily give it to him. Sometimes I take his hand even if he doesn't ask me to. It starts. I'm already grasping for his attention. I know there are supposed to be more children in our family. They will come, but I have often thought about my first son and this time we have had together. We are both lucky. I have been able to shower him with unlimited love, time and affection, and he has had my undivided attention. No other child who comes into this family will ever have that. I like to think that means he and I will have a special bond. That's not to say that I won't love my subsequent children or shower them with love and affection, but from here on out the attention must be divided. John is my first. I love him without end. Sometimes he's cranky and it annoys me, but then he smiles and crinkles his nose and his bright blue eyes twinkle. And then he reaches for me and I can't be annoyed or angry. Instead, I just love him.
As more children weigh on my mind, my first thoughts aren't usually about space or money or even being pregnant again although those do come. My first thoughts are about John. How will it affect the time I get to spend with him? How will I manage taking care of another baby and playing with my little boy, which I love doing so much? In reality, I know that he will not remember any of this time. He won't remember how we spent every single day together playing in the park, going to the pool, visiting with friends, visiting museums, exploring the city, learning and laughing. He won't remember it, but I will. He probably won't even remember the next few years, so should there be another child, he won't remember feeling jealous or slighted or neglected. But I will. So perhaps it isn't about John at all. It's about me. And again I wonder if I am the only one who feels this way or if all mothers feel this attached to their first born. I am not sure who has more separation anxiety, me or him?
He's only one, and still my baby. There is still time for me to love him and play with him. I really do enjoy every day I get to spend with him, even if some of those days are hard. It's still better than if I had gone back to work, so I am grateful. And I will still hold on to our nightly ritual as long as I can, just so I can kiss his forehead and lay my cheek on his cheek while he sleeps. He's my little boy, and I just love him.
Last night I moved him myself since Cameron was gone. It wasn't the first time nor will it be the last, but many more thoughts came to mind as I picked up my slumbering child. He's gotten so big in his year of life. I remember once when we first brought him home and he slept in the laundry basket. He's much too big for that now. When I see him in his crib sprawled out and unaware of my lurking presence, he reminds me of a little boy more than the baby he used to be. I held him in my arms for a moment and as I slowly walked toward the living room, and pang of reality swept in. He won't always be your baby boy, it says. It won't be long before you can't carry him in your arms and he stops looking for your hand when he runs down the hall. He won't worship you the way he does now. I ask reality to stop with the madness. Say it isn't so. But it continues. One day he will not tell you everything and perhaps when he is a teenager, you will just be his mom instead of the center of his ever enlarging universe. And then someday he will grow up and move away. My heart is in my throat. The tears begin to well up in my eyes, and again I ask reality to stop telling me things I already know. I continue with my whisperings and kisses, lay him in his bed and linger a little longer. As I walk back into my room, my heart is full, and I wonder if every mother feels this way or if it's just the mother of little boys or if it's just me. I just love him.
He's walking now, which means independence. He takes off on his own sometimes, but he still turns to look for me. Sometimes he still wants my finger, and I happily give it to him. Sometimes I take his hand even if he doesn't ask me to. It starts. I'm already grasping for his attention. I know there are supposed to be more children in our family. They will come, but I have often thought about my first son and this time we have had together. We are both lucky. I have been able to shower him with unlimited love, time and affection, and he has had my undivided attention. No other child who comes into this family will ever have that. I like to think that means he and I will have a special bond. That's not to say that I won't love my subsequent children or shower them with love and affection, but from here on out the attention must be divided. John is my first. I love him without end. Sometimes he's cranky and it annoys me, but then he smiles and crinkles his nose and his bright blue eyes twinkle. And then he reaches for me and I can't be annoyed or angry. Instead, I just love him.
As more children weigh on my mind, my first thoughts aren't usually about space or money or even being pregnant again although those do come. My first thoughts are about John. How will it affect the time I get to spend with him? How will I manage taking care of another baby and playing with my little boy, which I love doing so much? In reality, I know that he will not remember any of this time. He won't remember how we spent every single day together playing in the park, going to the pool, visiting with friends, visiting museums, exploring the city, learning and laughing. He won't remember it, but I will. He probably won't even remember the next few years, so should there be another child, he won't remember feeling jealous or slighted or neglected. But I will. So perhaps it isn't about John at all. It's about me. And again I wonder if I am the only one who feels this way or if all mothers feel this attached to their first born. I am not sure who has more separation anxiety, me or him?
He's only one, and still my baby. There is still time for me to love him and play with him. I really do enjoy every day I get to spend with him, even if some of those days are hard. It's still better than if I had gone back to work, so I am grateful. And I will still hold on to our nightly ritual as long as I can, just so I can kiss his forehead and lay my cheek on his cheek while he sleeps. He's my little boy, and I just love him.
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