I just asked Bobby the other night why Rowan seems to have grown up so fast–faster than any of our other babies. “We’re busier”, was his response. Although it must be true I feel like every time I look down at that boy scooting room by room, patting his chest and babbling “ba ba” in his high chair, and needing me less and less as he becomes more independent, I can’t help but feel it is way too fast.
My baby. My boy. He’s almost made a full turn of a year. If I really wonder where the time has gone and look back I remember him during all of the busyness of our days with my girls. Somewhere in my memory is that little baby–strapped on to me, in a stroller, being nursed somewhere while we’re out, sleeping on the couch, on our bed, in his bed, in the car–and over the months, being so alert and wanting so badly to keep up with his sisters.
In early October we’ll have some family over. A cake and some singing. And my happy, quiet boy in the deserved spotlight for an evening. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to think of it. For my daughters who are absolutely smitten by him it will feel like Christmas for them–to celebrate their little brother. I know Caroline has already been planning for a homemade gift for Rowan. And I’d like to make him one special thing, of course, for my little boy.
I think I blush whenever Bobby says that Rowan is in love with his mommy, that he always looks to me for approval, for safety. Rowan wants me as soon as he hears my voice, even when daddys’ holding him. He loves climbing on me if I’m ever in a horizontal position and sucking on my chin. He loves me so much. Feeling that from a son has become the most incredible feeling I’ve experienced. That love. That reciprocation of feelings is more than I thought my heart could ever handle.
All right now. Emotions move over; it’s time for breakfast.
the sleepy time gal