A note to my son...

Hey sunshine, 

You are officially the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I love you more than I can say...  Your daddy gets a bit miffed when I say that, but it's true. 

Your current favorite activities when you get home from daycare are nursing, eating solid foods, and playing trucks with your mama.  - Not necessarily in that order.

Your mama's favorite activities when she gets home from work are playing trucks, feeding you, snuggling you, and hanging out with your daddy.  Again, not necessarily in that order.  Although, playing trucks is right up there! 

At this point, I don't know who you will be.  Maybe you'll be an engineer.  We are related to  a lot of them.  Maybe you'll be a non-engineer like your mama.  There aren't a lot of us in the family.  Maybe you'll be a chef, or a librarian like your adopted aunt Jessi or an IT guy like a lot of the menfolk in your family or your adopted uncle Kevin...  Maybe you'll just be yourself.  Not a lot of folks get to do that, but that's my hope for you.  I hope you can be you, and never feel the need to apologize. 

You scare me sometimes.  You fall asleep in my arms so readily.  You smile when I sneak - not so stealthily - around the corner - and give the baby belly laugh.  My hope for you, and for myself as well perhaps, is that you will always find joy in someone not so stealthily sneaking up on you and grinning.  Long live the belly laugh, and individualism.

Love, your Mama. 

Yikes.  I fail at blogging.  I haven't posted in ... um... Actually, I fail at a lot of things.  My house is a mess.  I make no apologies.  My hair is a mess!  I haven't had a trim in  um...  a very long time.  I'm thinking it's a good six months or more.  My career, well, that's a different post.

Come to think of it, that's not a whole lot of things to apologize for, considering my kiddo is only 8 months old.  Here's a secret confession, sometimes, I think I blame him for my inability to clean, when in retrospect, my house was never that clean...  I mean, it was tidy enough, but it was never white glove. 

Anyway - life in a nutshell...

Malcolm = awesome, even if people do persist in spelling his name incorrectly.  Malcom?  Who on earth would name their child this without the second L...He crawls.  He says Mama.  His mama saying melts my heart every time.  He likes baths, waving, and snuggling.  Also, did I mention he says Mama! 

Matt = insert something glowey and mushy here.  I don't dare be too descriptive, because I know my brother reads my blog - Hi kid bro! - and I don't want to embarrass him. 

Me = tired! 

So here's a story for you. 

One lovely evening I was sleeping.  I don't get much sleep, so this was somewhat novel.  Then I woke up, and felt something warm and cuddly snuggled up against me.  In my sleep deprived state, I decided it was my infant son.  Like I said,  warm and cuddly...  So I thought - "oh crap, fell asleep nursing kiddo" - got out of bed, picked up the warm cuddly lump and started toward the kiddo's bedroom.  The husband's voice stopped my - saying "Honey, what are you doing?" 

I have to admit, at this point, I got mad.  I mean, I'm a sleep deprived new mommy, working my proverbial rear off, and just altogether somewhat touchy.  So my ever so kind response was "Putting the baby in his crib.  If you were awake why didn't you take him to his crib."  The "Jerk" at the end of that sentence was ever so kindly implied. 

His response of "Oh sweetie, that's the cat."  wasn't exactly expected... Poor Matt.  My irritation isn't exactly rational at 3 AM.  

Yeah.  It was our long haired black cat. In my defense,  Mal has fluffy PJs!

I vaguely remember looking down and recognizing the fact that Bug the cat was in my arms purring.

I have no excuse.  But Bug the cat is still awesome.  So are my M boys.