Baby Bits V

Sometimes I have Mommy Flash-Forwards.

Today is the first day I deliberately got stern with E, because we were trying to have lunch and he decided that his newly re-found raspberry-blowing skills would go nicely with eating solids.  Of course, he picked the magenta food to distribute in a fine spray all over his environs.  I assume he wasn’t being purposely aggravating, but he was purposely spraying the food.  So, I got all consequency: making a frowning face and saying “No!” in a disapproving tone when he did this, and then smiling and saying “Yay!” and clapping (he loves clapping sounds) when he ate a bite like a good little boy.

This made me flash forward to contemplate those times when he will have reached an age, like two or eight or twelve or fifteen, when he will want to make Mommy angry on purpose, just to see where his boundaries are.  I will have to be stern with him a lot in the years to come.  I feel confident that I have it in me, based on today’s adventures – because I could frown at him even though he’s the cutest little turkey possible.

And then there are the flash-forwards like the other night, when he was nursing in bed, almost asleep, and he took my thumb and held it in both his perfect, soft, tiny hands.  I had a profound moment of knowing that I must etch this in my memory, because there will come a day when he doesn’t want hugs or kisses from his mom, or doesn’t even see his mom very often.  And I will need to remember this.  In fact, I’ll be calling upon those moments in the stern situations too – because the love doesn’t get bigger than that.

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4 thoughts on “Baby Bits V

  1. Yerpa says:

    Doh! Th’ kid could’ve probaly been the artistic heir to Jackson Pollock. But nooooo. Mommy hadda jerk him back to the straight and narrow path.

    He’ll no doubt be a car salesman now. 🙂

  2. bev says:

    My son never got to the point where he refused (in any sort of regular way) hugs and/or kisses from his mom. My mom’s son didn’t either.

    Here’s something I wrote when Ben was a baby: (remember we didn’t have baby carseats then)

    To My Sleeping Son

    My angel,
    you lie asleep in my lap,
    pure innocence –
    nine months old
    (well, not quite – six more days),
    but your sleeping features remind me
    of you, newborn.
    My arms cradle you,
    the car’s motion rocks you,
    its engine hums to you,
    and the lights flicker over your face,
    swiftly, one after another,
    like moments
    or years.
    O my son,
    I know
    that you will grow:
    you will skin your knees
    and dirty your face;
    you will frown and turn from me,
    embarrassed,
    when I try to kiss you;
    you will learn worlds of wondrous things;
    you will bring me ever-widening joy;
    and I suspect
    you will break my heart
    a few times.
    Little boy,
    in my arms you sigh,
    gentle and wise.
    I shall kiss your cherub brow
    (a feather touch – it will not wake you):
    you are wholly mine for now.

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