Make Believe

One of my only memories of pre-school was of me wearing a veil and pretending I was a bride - probably the only time that happened until my mid-thirties and I actually WAS a bride. I remember being small and playing games but not so much of me pretending to be anything. I mean, I pretended to be Maria from West Side Story and Sandy from Grease, but that was later. A therapist might be able to have a field day with that.

So it's with a fair amount of relief that The Boy has been so keen to pretend to be an astronaut, a chef, a train engineer or whatever. Also, his school provides a bounty of dress up and make believe stuff, and they're generous lending policy. After The Little Boy was born The Boy went through a phase of bringing home a baby doll, he often brings home a pair of sparkly pink plastic heels or tap shoes, but most recently he's been coming home decked out as a fireman.

I Am Sentimental

Having a family was something I never knew I wanted. I mean, I always knew Hubs and I were stuck together forever, but being married and bearing offspring were always just vague ideas. "Yeah, I want kids someday," was something I'd think, but never with certainty. So now that my boys' childhoods are going by so. freaking. quickly. I cannot believe I wasted so much time being blase about thinking this was what I wanted.

Anyway, being "older" and slightly shocked that I'm digging this parenthood thing so much, I find myself being a total softy more often than I'd like to admit. Like the other night; It was an hour past bedtime and I could hear The Boy "reading" in his room. This is a regular occurance as he fights sleep like a Kung Fu master - quietly and with much determination. As much as I'd like him to maintain more of a regular sleep schedule - 8ish to 8ish, hopefully, maybe, someday - I gotta say I love hearing his little voice read his little stories. It doesn't matter how rough a day we've had or how tired I am, when I hear him happily reciting stories from the memory of Hubs or I reading them to him a million times, my heart melts a little. Actually, it melts a lot.

I'm sure most people, barring those experiencing obvious marital/familial difficulties, think they have the best family ever. And I'm sure many families are genuinely awesome. But my family really and truly is the best. Seriously. Hubs is not only gorgeous and clever, but a saint to boot. He is a fantastic dad and he puts up with my disability AND my crankiness. It's a mystery what I ever didtomake him love me so. Likewise, my boys are spectaular. I don't know much about kids in general, but I'm pretty sure mine are among the cutest, smartest and funniest ever to walk the earth. Yes, I'm aware that I'm a gushing cliche.

And even when things aren't awesome, like now when dealing with teething - I'm looking at you Little Boy - or the certain stropiness that goes along with being three, I never think of my boys as anything but my treasures and love Hubs even more for feeling the same.

Man Of Few Words

Hubs doesn't say much. And it's not just me being a word slut that makes me say that, he is a genuinely reserved individual. He doesn't speak unless he feels it's necessary and he chooses his words judiciously.

 

And he doesn't smile often either, and almost never for the camera.

 

What a shame because he sure is cute.

Wordless Wednesday

7 Months(and 2 days)

Almost crawls, likes avocado but not broccoli, outgrew the shortest setting on his jumperoo, is fascinated by Cat, is even more fascinated by his big brother.