I know I’ve been MIA…I can’t help it. I’m totally smitten and loving it, but dreading it at the same time…Love is complicated. I’m also exhausted getting only 2 and a half hour sleep cycles in each night, but I know that won’t last forever. Here are things I love:
- I love Ryan’s peach fuzz…it’s dreamy and soft and all over his sweet shoulders, his back and his sweet cheeks. I just can’t explain how much I love his fuzz…
- I love that God designed him to fit perfectly with his soft, fuzzy head cupped in my hands, arms together, with his buns resting perfectly at the fold at my elbows…in this position I can smooch his face all over.
- I love that my lips fit perfectly between his fuzzy shoulder and his sweet little ear.
- I love when I stick my pinky in his hand he actually holds it…his brother never held my hand…ever…
- I love that he throws punches like a sailor in a bar brawl when he’s hungry…and when he burps and toots, he could easily beat out college boys in a competition.
- I love that he smiles and puckers and smirks and pouts when he’s dreaming dreams of who knows what.
- I love a lot of other things, too, like how much his daddy loves him and wanted to remember his life long friend every day for the rest of his life so blessed him with a great name like Ryan, which means “Joyous King” and a middle name like Everett which means “Brave & Strong”.
- I love that his big sister is so proud of him and wants to hold him and change his buns and snuggle him…even though it’s been a big transition for her.
I’m not going to lie. I could make a list of what I hate, too. It’s been hard as hell. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster, much like the Corkscrew at Cedar Point in Ohio. As much as I love being Ryan’s mommy, (I tell him that multiple times throughout the day, “I’m your mommy! I’m your mommy! I’m your mommy!”) I’m riding the fence of loving every single little thing he does and staring at every single little thing he does, hoping and praying that he’s not like his big brother…
The stress of little sleep and staring to make sure Ryan is okay every other minute have added up a bit and yesterday, as a result, I pumped a whopping 1/8 of an inch of milk, which equals about a half an ounce. Stress and nursing do not go hand in hand, though ironically, they go hand in hand, so I am trying to consciously chill out.
How’s that workin’ for me?
Well, I’m just taking one day at a time. I’m enjoying the peach fuzz. I’m trying to sneak in snuggle time with my girl as we all adjust to a new schedule. He and I are reading the Psalms and will head into Proverbs soon. I am taking deep breaths, allowing myself to cry and laugh…and just trusting that the love in my heart for my husband, daughter and son is enough to span a lifetime, but meant to be spent one day at a time.
That, I believe, is the most difficult part of being a mommy…the “one day at a time” part…
He is literally just that sweet!
Em and I were cracking up, commentating what we thought Ryan was thinking…we’re going to make a video and post it…stay tuned.
My friend wrapped him up like little bunny foo foo.
The sweetest big sister eh-ver.