I suppose the transition has been slow, but it feels like overnight Patrick has turned into a big boy. I watch him run back and forth across the living room playing with whatever toy is his most recent favorite and wonder what happened to that little tiny fragile baby boy we brought home from the hospital not that long ago.
He has gone from a dependent baby who could only cry to make his needs known to an independent toddler who is learning to communicate with words, gestures, manipulation, and tantrums. He has gone from our baby who was a part of our family because he happened to be the baby the nurses put in my arms on that October afternoon to our little boy who is part of the family because he wants to be, because he loves both of us as evident by his spontaneous hugs and Daddy squeals. He has gone from the placid baby who ate whatever was placed in front of him, whether it was breastmilk or smushed bananas, to a defiant toddler who eats what he wants when he wants and would rather go hungry for a meal than dare eat something that doesn't meet his current standards. He has gone from that clumsy baby who couldn't even hold up his own head or hold anything more than Mommy or Daddy's finger to a competent toddler on the verge of running who has not only finally figured out how to hold his own sippy cup while he drinks (sometimes anyway) but can also do so while walking.
I'll take myself down Memory Lane from time to time by looking at all our old pictures of him and lament that sweet, helpless baby from not that long ago. But then I look up to watch Patrick run towards me with his comb and then dip his head so that I can comb his hair for him, then run away again happily while holding the comb to his head trying to comb his own hair. I wouldn't miss this independence, this developing personality, for the world. As frustrated as I get at his stubbornness (payback for my own childhood, I know), I love knowing that he knows his own mind and can stand firm until he gets what he wants. There is something endearing in being able to laugh with my son, knowing that he is deliberately trying to make me laugh, instead of laughing at something silly he's done unintentionally (or worse yet, something we've done to him).
Most of all, I just love the little person my son is becoming. I love that I get to watch each little step he takes in becoming that person and that I was chosen to have a hand in helping him become that young man. Sure, I'll always miss that tiny baby that I was blessed to have for longer than most, but the greatest blessing is watching that baby grow into a little boy and eventually a man.
He has gone from a dependent baby who could only cry to make his needs known to an independent toddler who is learning to communicate with words, gestures, manipulation, and tantrums. He has gone from our baby who was a part of our family because he happened to be the baby the nurses put in my arms on that October afternoon to our little boy who is part of the family because he wants to be, because he loves both of us as evident by his spontaneous hugs and Daddy squeals. He has gone from the placid baby who ate whatever was placed in front of him, whether it was breastmilk or smushed bananas, to a defiant toddler who eats what he wants when he wants and would rather go hungry for a meal than dare eat something that doesn't meet his current standards. He has gone from that clumsy baby who couldn't even hold up his own head or hold anything more than Mommy or Daddy's finger to a competent toddler on the verge of running who has not only finally figured out how to hold his own sippy cup while he drinks (sometimes anyway) but can also do so while walking.
I'll take myself down Memory Lane from time to time by looking at all our old pictures of him and lament that sweet, helpless baby from not that long ago. But then I look up to watch Patrick run towards me with his comb and then dip his head so that I can comb his hair for him, then run away again happily while holding the comb to his head trying to comb his own hair. I wouldn't miss this independence, this developing personality, for the world. As frustrated as I get at his stubbornness (payback for my own childhood, I know), I love knowing that he knows his own mind and can stand firm until he gets what he wants. There is something endearing in being able to laugh with my son, knowing that he is deliberately trying to make me laugh, instead of laughing at something silly he's done unintentionally (or worse yet, something we've done to him).
Most of all, I just love the little person my son is becoming. I love that I get to watch each little step he takes in becoming that person and that I was chosen to have a hand in helping him become that young man. Sure, I'll always miss that tiny baby that I was blessed to have for longer than most, but the greatest blessing is watching that baby grow into a little boy and eventually a man.Labels: Feelings, Photos, Sweet Stories
2 Comments:
Patrick really doesn't look like a little baby anymore! He is growing up so fast all of a sudden. His new found independence with walking probably contributes to that a lot.
Isnt it amazing watching them grow into their own little people? This is my favorite part of being a mom. Knowing that the little people they are becoming is because of us.
Post a Comment
<< Home