Sometimes when I sit down to blog, I think that I have nothing to write, that nothing worth typing has happened. Well, I'm usually wrong. There's always the little things. Even though I spent the whole day with my son who only had maybe 20 minutes the entire morning/afternoon/evening in his father's arms because he's busy working on his musical, I still didn't want to leave him on a neighbors doorstep, not once. Sure his usual evening fit creeped into our lovely afternoon together and of course he returned pints of breast milk every time he ate but it didn't matter. Mother Nature has us mommies wired in a way that it doesn't take much for us to forget why we want to give our children to total strangers some days. Willem is mastering this shy Bambi-like smile-hidden-in-arms combo that makes me swoon. I could get lost in the depths of his dimples (he got those from the pool boy) and when he wraps his tiny arms around my neck and clings to me with total exhaustion, I go weak in the knees. When he finds his little fist and with every ounce of concentration he can muster, directs it to his mouth, I am cheering. Of course, when this happens, his eyes cross as his hand gets closer to his nose and stay that way for longer periods of time than I am comfortable with but I know he'd still be "my boy" if they stuck. Every day he is changing so every day I have something to write.
Tonight my husband flirted with me and said I was rocking the "Rosie the Riveter: "We Can Do It!" look and he liked it. At least this time he wasn't talking to my boobs.
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