Miles, Miles, Miles. Where should I begin? You are an adorable little pill. I find myself so incredibly busy with you that time literally flies by. Time is moving so fast that occasionally I look at you and think, “my goodness, when did my little boy grow up?” I get so caught up in the mundane daily hoopla that I forget to really enjoy the moment. Instead of worrying about vacuuming the stairs or dusting the window ledges, perhaps I should just be in the moment with you and Liv. It scares me how fast time is flying. I definitely agree that time accelerates with each subsequent child. That lady with 20+ kids must be a glossy-eyed hot mess walking through life with blinders.
Disney World with you was indeed interesting to say the least. You did fine for the most part but you had definitely had your fill by the end of the week. The flight home was excruciating. You cried from the moment we took off and you expressed your discontent with us during the entire 6 hour flight. I considered walking you up and down the aisle but I feared that people would spot me and think, “oh, that’s the parent of the screaming child. What’s her problem? She can’t console an infant?” Unfortunately for me, we sat near the bathroom so people spotted me anyways. I felt the cold judging eyes glaring at the back of my head. One gentleman even made a comment complete with an eyeroll and a dissatisfied head shake. After a few hours of trying to console you, I went in to the bathroom for a reprieve. I think a week’s worth of exhaustion caught up to me at that moment because all I could do was rock you back and forth and cry. Never had I felt so tired and helpless than at that moment.
You had quite a thing for the ladies of Disney. You enjoyed Snow White but I feel you thoroughly enjoyed Belle more. As we were preparing for our photo op with Belle, you noticed her ta-ta’s and continued to glare at them with much desire. Your staring was pretty obvious and even made me sweat a little bit. Belle sat there perfectly poised trying to get your attention and all you could do was undress her chest with your eyes. It was nice of you to peel your eyes off of her long enough for us to take somewhat of a decent picture – well, a clean picture that is.
A major problem we had last month was your constant need to grab my delicate neck skin. You have listened to my deafening screams to let go and instead have moved your hands up. Now you have a weird fascination with putting your hands in my mouth. You will be lying peacefully on my chest and I’ll think I’m in the clear and then I slowly feel one of your tiny hands make their way up. You feel around on my face until you feel my mouth and then you proceed to try to jam your hand in. What the hell is this? I’m holding you, why do you still feel the need to be bothersome. Why can’t you just be? I’m extra on edge due to this time of year. This time of the year, I have horrible allergies that make me annoyed beyond belief so throw on top of that a toddler who asks, what are you doing, every 30 seconds and a baby that can’t be put down. Voila, you have a crazy swollen-eyed woman as a mother.
I knew from the second the doctor announced it was a boy that there were going to be some challenges and some things I just wouldn’t understand. One of those things is your constant need to grab yourself when you’re exposed. At first I kind of laughed it off but it has seriously become an obsession of yours. Whenever your diaper comes off, your hand is ready for a quick tug and pull. If I quickly brush your hand away because I have to clean you first, you scream at me as if to say “stop it woman, let me be!” I know this is just a precursor for things to come. Oh, how I do not look forward to disappearing lingerie catalogs and your constant need to “take a shower.”
Despite your constant need for attention, I still find you to be addictively cute. It takes all of my willpower not to bite your adorable little tooshie when it’s exposed. You adore your sister and are always intrigued, as we all are, as to what your sister is doing. You two recently began sharing a bedroom and nothing melts my heart more than listening to the two of you talk to each other first thing in the morning. Well, Olivia is kind of talking but you respond back with a wee little coo. It’s painfully sweet and one of the things I try to remember when I’m having a bad day. You’re certainly less moody than you were the first five months of your life which gives me hope that I didn’t give birth to a boy with chronic PMS. Let’s hope the massive amounts of jar food I’m shoveling your way keeps you content for awhile or at least long enough so I can use the bathroom in peace. I know I’m reaching on that one.