I think free writing is becoming a bit of a routine for me. I think I’m starting to get used to 5 minutes. I’m usually pretty good at making a statement in 5 minutes or less. I realize others often stop almost mid-sentence. What do you think? I’d love to hear if this is helping your writing or unleashing your creative freedom. Or if it’s just fun.
Whatever it is for you, I’m so glad you join me every Sunday.
My baby is turning 4 on Monday. Four years since I was a big fat pregnant lady. Sometimes the four years makes me feel so super sentimental. I love to reminsice about the baby days of Evan. And he knows it. He knows when I talk about the baby days I will look at him with the sweetest sugary smile.
It’s kind of funny because the baby days were sooooo much better in retrospect. It’s kind of like my hair. I always think my hair looks bad until I look back at a picture and then think “wow, that actually looked pretty good. why don’t I still have my hair like that?” Even though I totally hated it at the time.
I didn’t hate Evan’s baby days. They were just so gosh darn hard. So bleary-eyed and confusing and scary and joyful and everything else. I couldn’t livei n the monent and appreciate the moment. I can when I look at the pictures though.
Now that he’s older and the focus is off of my sleep, or lack thereof, and my mental state, or lack thereof, I’m able to live more in the moment.
I was talking to a friend who told me going from 3 to 4 is hard. It feels almost like the transition from boyhood to manhood, figuratively speaking. I don’t think I’ll feel wistful because I’ve been enjoying every moment of 2, 3, and soon to be 4 years old. I enjoy seeing him get older and it only makes me happy to think back to what we had. But at the same time, it makes me wonder what is to come. When will I stop being Mommy? When will he not want me or need me (I’m already getting that now). I’m doing my best to keep myself the object of my son’s affection without smothering him. Although sometimes I’d like to smother him, and not in a good way.
Tonight, he seemed like a 13 year old. The kind that you want to ship off the grandma. But tomorrow is another day. His birthday actually.
Happy Birthday to my baby boy!