Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Outside... does it get any better?

This kid *loves* being outside. If he is ever upset, we just take him outside and boom! Crying fit ends, immediately. He'd play out there for hours, if his parents (ahem) would let him. As it is, it's more tiring than you'd think to be out there with him, because it's amazing how many things in our yard he can find to shove down his gullet. And because we're renting, we can't really do too much about getting rid of the cactus garden (ack!) or other major kid hazards out there. Until he gets over the oral-fixation stage and stops sticking everything he can get his hands on into his mouth, we just have to keep extra close when he plays outside.

Okay, maybe not *that* close. The good thing about his love for the outdoors is that it gets me out of the house. It's very easy to get caught up in just sitting here in the house. I've got my computer, my job search, my laundry and dishes and cooking and other household chores, and it all adds up to a lot of time indoors. Having him helps bring me out into the daylight, which I guess is good for you. Last week we took him out and were watching him stand and toddle around the yard.

Sounds boring, right? Well, color me lame, then, because I actually found it quite enjoyable. But then I've been slowing down a little lately, trying to savor every moment with him because I know how quickly they pass. It seems like only yesterday that I was tucking him into my shirt to keep him close to my skin, and now he is practically running around the house. He hardly seems like a baby anymore, but is looking more and more like a little boy. I think I'll cry when he starts talking... is it going to be like this for the rest of our lives? This joy mixed with melancholy, this attempt to record the present while memories run constantly in the background? It's like having a radio on in the kitchen and trying to watch a movie in the living room; how can I separate out the past I love, so that I can enjoy the present without feeling a sense of loss for what has been?


No comments:

Post a Comment