We’ve had a rough few weeks, here. It’s just been one of those times when it feels like there are a thousand things to do, everything is going wrong, and we can’t catch our breath.
Sick nanny, calling off for over a week. Work stress. Family drama. More family drama. A cat with a tooth problem. A car that locks us out for no reason. A calendar full of all sorts of extra stuff, resulting in very few “normal” days. Separation anxiety. A week of very ill, exhausted mommas. And now, a baby with his first cold.
I could go on, but my complaining is even annoying me.
Let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time fantasizing about saying “*!&% it!,” giving it all up, and moving to a Caribbean island to become an ice cream scooper, lately. (Have you read this article?)
I’m sure you’ve been there, too.
Here’s the thing: Finn doesn’t stop growing. No matter how distracted and busy and overdrawn we are, Finn keeps changing. He doesn’t wait for our life to slow down. He doesn’t wait for us to find the time for him. He doesn’t wait for us to prioritize.
And so, I’ve been making a list. (Yes, another one). A list of the things I don’t want to forget. A list of the things that, when the fog of never-ending madness lifts, I’ll remember.
Us parents are always quick to make record of the big things: first tooth, first steps, first day of school. But, even more, I want to remember the little things.
Here are some of those little things that I don’t want to forget:
- the way Finn looks back over his shoulder, twisting to look at me when he’s in the car-seat and I’m driving;
- how he slams his legs, pounding the mattress with excitement, when we go in to get him in the morning;
- his never-ending head shaking (which, yes, has caused us some concern, but is also adorable);
- the way he buries his head in my chest, giving little nuzzles;
- the way he buries his head in my arm while sitting next to me on the couch, usually right after looking up and giving me a smile that stops me dead;
- how he “sharks” food, coming after the fork or spoon like a rabid animal;
- the way he talks to the cats–and only the cats–frequently;
- how, when he sees you move to pick him up, he’ll drop the toy he’s holding so fast, reaching his arms into the air;
- his ridiculously sweet “O” pout, which he first did a lot as a newborn and which now includes his sticking his tongue out just so.
These aren’t the sort of things that any baby book would prompt us to jot down, but they are the most important things. WAY more important than any of the miscellany that sometimes clouds the goodness.