And, Who Has The Time?

I actually just sat here and stared at the blank page.  Because, it has been eighteen months since I had my little man.  A year and a half.  I was so filled with ideas, bursting at the seams, ready to tackle the world and prove that I could make my own rules.

Well, I have.  But not in the way I thought.

I envisioned taking little man out, taking over the world.  Still being able to focus on myself and be the best mom in the world.

Little did I know, he would teach me the new rules.

The dishes...will pile up.  But, he helps unload the dishwasher. Which terrifies and tickles me simultaneously!

The dog's water bowl will double as a scoopable water filled mess.  So, now I know what kind of water toys to get for Summer!

Showers are still special, but no longer the fifteen minute hot sanctuary they once were.  Fast, efficient.  And sometimes, especially in the winter, you skip shaving your legs.

No longer a night person.  Unless you sleep on the floor next to the crib instead of taking the baby to bed with you.  And the morning really is the best time to have a cup of coffee, do some yoga, dance.  If he doesn't wake up early.

Money matters.  Because I can't get enough of plaid shorts and hats.  Which don't always stay on his head.

And, time is precious.  Play is better than anything else you could be doing.  Who has the time to worry, be angry, or take things for granted when you see that smiling face or hold him when he has a fever?

My favorite thing he has taught me?

You can be happy.  Giggle. Live your dreams.

All while being a mom.

Who Wants To Be PerFecT?

Desperately trying not to growl.  And not succeeding all that well.  Good thing that the only person that could hear me is napping right now. 
Trying to cross the T's and dot the i's is making me crazy.  Thought I finally began to get it together.  Pulled out the old planner, filled it with shiny new fill in your calendar days yourself planning pages.  Filled in all the to do's on the days they needed to be done.
Only to miss mark the date.
Sigh.
Good thing I used a pencil.  And the portrait studio had an open appointment. (I wondered why she said she thought I was in tomorrow...)

Rediscovery...Tickle Time!

I hate being tickled.  Serious face.  It really pisses me off.  This all comes from all the time I was tortured as a child (and beyond!) by my mom.  She relished tickling me, and I never really understood why.  Did she like turning me into an evil snarling (yet giggling) demon child?  Was it torture?  Or was she just sadistic and wanted me to feel the pain of all the dishes and clean up she had done after me for my whole life?
Nope.
Turns out if it's anything like how I feel as a mom that she just loved to see me smile and giggle.  Uncontrollably. 
I now know this because there is nothing I love more, or that will make my heart swell and produce a big ol goofy grin on my face than tickle time with my little man.  From the moment I got that first giggle (which may or may not been from gas!!) to the uncontrollable adorable giggle fits, I was hooked.  My day, no matter how annoying (laundry, dishes, business, or economic freak outs!), suddenly changes into blissful happiness.
Not only can I not resist his beautiful laughter, it makes me love my mom even more....