what it means to be henry's mommy

I wrote a post like this months ago, back when Hank was just a peanut.  Since that post, so much about my little munchkin has changed.  I can't explain in words how complete my life feels with Hank in it.

What it means to be Henry's mommy...

...it means that at the end of the day after Henry is fast asleep, I get to pick up his toys.  I say "I get to" because it feels like such a privileged to to be the mother of a little boy.  A little boy that has reached an age that he spends his days playing.  No longer are the days of eat, sleep, poop, repeat.  No, no, now Henry shakes his maraca, bangs his drum, smashes his piano and twists and jumps.

...it means knowing that textured foods are a work in progress.  Some things, like noodles and avocado, make him gag the moment they cross his lips and some things, like whole wheat pancakes, mango and crackers are perfectly acceptable.  First they must be carefully inspected and then immediately shoved in his mouth.

...it means that when I notice him scratch behind his left ear that he is one of two things; frustrated or sleepy.  Either of those two things though require a snuggle.

...it means that if I want to play a movie other than Baby Einstein, I have to lay on the floor next to Henry for the duration and I'm always okay with that.

...it means knowing that there will be a few days in a row that Henry will leak out of every diaper.  It will be random and it will only last a few days.  It will pass and the diapers will stop leaking after a few days and there is no reason to switch to a new brand each time this happens.

...it means that despite the flack that I get from certain family members about teaching Henry sign language, it works for us.  He already understands a handful of signs and can do "milk" and "dog" all by himself.

...it means being able to distinguish the difference between the hungry cry, the bored cry and the tired cry from another room.

...it means buying carts full of clothes for him instead of myself, and not being sad about it.

...it means having to let go of anxiety when leaving him with someone other than myself or DJ.

...it means knowing that some nights in the bath he prefers tug boats and turtles and the next night he may prefer ducks and sting rays, but they should never all be in the bath tub on the same night.

...it means that if I want to hear him belly laugh, all I need to do is take him outside to watch the dogs (Bowie especially) run in circles.

...it means that I have to stop trying to make the size 2 shoes fit.  He's in a size 3 and that's all there is to it.

...it means knowing that he likes to sleep with a blanket no matter the temperature.  Which leads me to the reason for buying the angel care monitor so that I don't have to sleep with one eye open looking at the video monitor.

...it means realizing that doctors can predict when a child is going to get his first tooth about as accurately as they can predict the exact day that you're going to have your baby.  (although I did have Henry on his due-date, but that was only because I was induced)

...it means that he cries out for me when he sees me leave the room.

Just like the last post about being Henry's mommy, I could write endlessly.  It's funny how you just know your child.  Their noises, their expressions, their likes and dislikes.  It's great being a mom.