DSC_0715_2.jpg These days, he is my constant companion. Around 6:30 or 7 am he’s awake, and Hero Hubs fishes him out of his crib, and together we pile into our bed for however long he can stand it. Eventually, I’m finally willing to open my eyes, and his face is a few inches from mine, ready with one word: “Breck” {meaning breakfast}. I’m pretty easily convinced that we should get up for breakfast, because I’m hungry, too.

We are almost never more than a room or two apart from sun up to sun down.

When baking is on the list of things to accomplish, he stands on a chair in front of the counter, wooden spoon in hand and stirs while I scurry to toss in the ingredients. Chocolate chips disappear at warp speed, even when they’ve already been mixed in and have made their way into the muffin pan.

On some of my many, many trips to the bathroom, he’s there, standing on his tip toes to look into the sink. He has the black rubber sink stopper in his hands, and he is waiting for me to turn on the water to wash my hands, so that he can turn the sink stopper upside down and fill it with a little water, and then slowly pour it out. He’s eager to perform the special task of flushing, and he gently puts the lid down before we leave.

Just a few days ago, he watched me leave him in the nursery at the gym without crying. I normally have to sneak out once he’s settled. He watched me go with a bit of a sad face, but without tears. It felt like a huge moment in my Mommy heart; exciting and sore at the same time.

We’ve told him a Baby Brother is coming, and he knows where Baby Brother is. He occasionally tells Baby Brother, “Come!” or plays pee-tee-boo with my belly, covering his face with his hands.


In the afternoons, he is often my excuse to get out of the heat and stroll to the pool. He begs me to put on his Mickey Mouse bathing suit. Even though HH and I think it looks dorky, he loves it.

“Mick Mouse, Mick Mouse, Mick Mooooooouse!!!”

Our washer and dryer are front loaders. These days, he loads the washer for me, and when it’s finished, he moves the clothes to the dryer for me. My aching back is silently thankful while I oversee and pull out things that shouldn’t go in the dryer. He doesn’t like it when things aren’t supposed to go in.DSC_0767_2

He is the reason I sometimes take a nap in the afternoons. But he’s sometimes the reason I don’t.

By five o’clock he’s tugging my apron strings in the kitchen, signing and asking for a cookie. Din-din seems terribly far away, but a little biscuit or a Bear-sized handful of Otees will usually do the trick.

These days he would rather draw on a blank page than a page with something on it. And he would rather tell you what he would like drawn than try to draw it himself.

G-pa! Buck! Mouse-ke-tools!

These days, after dinner and bathtime, we sometimes sit on the couch to read a book. I’m tired from carrying extra weight around all day, probably sore from standing up in the kitchen so much. I have his books memorized, so I can read with my eyes closed, but if I begin to doze off, his little face turns up to me with a simple command:


After saying prayers, we tuck him into his crib. He likes to have his two favourite blankies, and wants us to find the tags for him so that he can rub them between his fingers or across his lips. The days when blankies must go into the wash are not always pleasant.

We listen to him for the next hour sometimes, talking to himself or his baby cousin far away in Colorado. He sings and giggles and HH goes upstairs to encourage him to go to sleep.

These days, he’s sometimes the reason I’m tired. But sometimes he’s the reason I get a chance to rest. Sometimes he keeps me on my feet a lot more than I want to be, but sometimes he is the reason I go for a walk when I otherwise wouldn’t but really should.

These days, he is an incredible source of joy to us — a walking, talking, gleefully-squealing as he runs into a fence reminder of the blessings of God.

And these days, more than anything else, he is my constant reminder that these nine months…these forty weeks…these 280 days of knitting and growing, working and waiting, (and even waddling) are so, very, worth it.