Walking in the Past

Blast it, now I can't sleep. What were previously my early morning, enjoy my tea and ramble to the world postings are quickly becoming my late night, can't get to sleep vents of frustration. Don't you just LOVE hormones?

I was watching Alex toddle around the house today and it struck me how much he's grown in just this past year. He's no longer my little baby, but instead is now my adventurous little boy, determined to seek out new things and to get there on his own two feet. I love the way he walks around with his hands up, as if he's still holding on to Mommy and Daddy's hands. It's as if we give him invisible support that he takes with him on his travels 'round the living room, bedrooms and kitchen. The entire world is different to him now. People look exciting and different somehow, from this new angle of walking upright. Things on the ground are even more interesting as stooping down must be acheived to get a closer look. It's an entirely new perspective on the world, and I treasure the gift of watching him experience it.

And in watching his growth from baby to little boy, it also brought me back, back to when he WAS my little baby. I found something I posted on my myspace blog that I thought I share with you here. Alex was about four months old at the time:

I want to sleep. I need to go to bed, but I can't stop staring at him. My son. MY SON. Such a phrase meant nothing to me last year. Even six months ago as I carried him beneath my heart it had little impact. But now he's here. A living breathing embodiment of true passion and timeless love. When I look at his tiny face, so peaceful in sleep, I am amazed. Enthralled. Enraptured. Breathless. Those of you who don't have children will think I'm nuts and easily slide back to your sleeping in and traveling at a moment's notice. But your time will come. And then you'll be standing in the dark in your husband's faded football t-shirt, leaning ever so slightly over the side of a crib, falling even more in love every second and wondering if there is anything in the world as beautiful as your child's face.

You'll marvel as you notice he has his father's thirst for knowledge and that he has times of quiet reflection just as you do. You'll feel your stomach lurch with joy when he laughs and giggles, and your heart clench in agony when he's afraid or something hurts.

You'll do all of these things and many more. And you'll treasure every moment. I wish the soul-searing joy of parenthood upon you all.