So I’m realizing one excellent fringe benefit of becoming a parent is doing all sorts of fun things with your kid—even if they’re nowhere near old enough to enjoy it with you. We’ve navigated our way through a corn maze, been apple pickin’, taken a hayride, and of course, fired off the corn cannon in recent weeks. I find myself looking forward to future years of similar fall fun, as well as having a good excuse to go watch kids movies in theaters.
Eight months has been a really good age so far. Max isn’t really mobile yet—rolling is still his preferred method of travel. At the same time, he’s still very content to hang out in the Ergo carrier while I putter around the house. So he’s still very portable, but I don’t have to chase after him yet. Plus, we can still swear around him and he won’t remember it. And he’s now able to start the night in his crib, which feels like a small miracle. I’m getting little slices of my life back, while still enjoying the new pieces of my life. I went out twice this week in the evening, and Scott was able to get Max to bed. Starting to find a semblance of balance between who I was before Max, and the me that hangs out at libraries singing “Pattycake”. (Just to clarify, I mean singing “Pattycake” with other parents and tots at a library story hour, not just hanging out at the library randomly singing “Pattycake. Although I will mention that they should change the name of the story hour from “Finger Fun with Babies” unless they are trying to attract pedophiles.)
Despite all this fun, I still make room for my melancholic tendencies. Recently after a nice walk with a friend, I was prepping apples to attempt making an apple crisp, with Max in the Ergo. He fell asleep, his little head (okay, in all honesty, not so little—it’s a 97th percentile head!) resting against my chest. I found myself thinking “this might be the last (and first, for that matter) time that Max falls asleep on me while I peel apples.” He will eventually forget the sound of my heartbeat. When was the last time I heard my mom’s heartbeat?
Life is much busier than it was before—I used to be very content to putter around the house, taking my time, stretching out on the couch and reading in between getting things done around the house. Now I am always multi-tasking—feeding Max and checking my email, dancing with Max while doing the dishes, catching up on phone calls while trying to entertain Max. And because he’s a curious little guy who seems happiest when we’re busy, we’re out and about all the time. So different, but good.
Last night we attended—sort of—our good friends’ annual Halloween party. What a difference a year makes—last year I was 5 months pregnant with Max and having a fat day meltdown the day of the party. This year, at the last minute I decided I needed some black and purple tights so we headed out to the Halloween shop Spirit, and the mall to join the rest of the procrastinators. Unfortunately they only had black and purple thigh-highs, and the young sprite of a clerk informed me I would need a garter belt to keep the thigh-highs up. So there I found myself standing in line with my baby in the carrier, looking ragged from a bad night, and a tiny black garter belt in my hand. Sweet Lord. We went to the party early and headed home just as the other guests began to arrive. Got some good pictures at Jared’s fancy photo booth, and Max enjoyed staring at the trippy party lights. Next year—babysitter. Although Max looked pretty cute in his little pumpkin suit. Facebook pictures will be uploaded soon. Today—it’s out to Peaks with Max’s cousins.
