Memories are fickle things.  Sometimes it seems you can only remember the bad and not the good, and at other times the most unimportant details, rather than the big things in life.

Being a mother and watching a little boy grow teaches me this lesson everyday. Our son at two has changed so much since he was born. Babies grow from being ever so dependant to being so staunchly independent that it is quite surprising and downright shocking. I guess that’s life though. I won’t be changing his bum and dressing him forever. He will eventually walk out of our house by himself and he is already on that path, although for now he needs help stepping off the front step.

Some of my favourite moments of the day with him right now are helping him fall asleep for his nap. While it took a while, he now accepts that he is tired and falls asleep without fighting and crying. He is actually very sweet. His already soft voice gets a bit softer. “Bah, bah bah,” is my cue to sing Bah Bah Black Sheep, sometimes this is necessary, other times no. We cuddle his two stuffies, Humphrey and Humberto (a camel and frog, respectively) and as I stroke his baby soft hair his eyes roll back and his eyelids flutter, finally settling together. Peace.

Other moments you wish you could forget forever, like when your son become “The baby that potentially swallowed glass ”  and you are waiting for x-rays to be read in the Children’s hospital ER. This was us for three hours last night. Honestly we knew that since he was acting normal after being caught drinking out of a broken drinking glass (and not finding all the pieces!) he was probably fine, but we still wanted to make sure there was no chance of internal bleeding so we took him in to be seen. Luckily nothing showed up and we were sent home, but there were moments of panic.

I want to appreciate all the moments I have with the people I love and I think writing them down is the only way my memories with stay with me. Luckily I can still remember my password to log in to WordPress it has been so long.


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