The Boy

I've got mommy guilt and I've got it bad.

He's only 6 months old and I'm already worried about how little I talk about him. People ask me how things are and I launch easily into a list of things that are going on with Diva Girl...the good, the bad, the progress, the way she has found the right screaming pitch to drive me crazy. Oh, and Rascal? He's good. Sleeps well. No teeth yet.

Ouch.

So that is what I was thinking about this morning, as I lay next to him in bed. I watched his sweet sleeping face and I though "Please, never have such issues that people always ask me how you are in worried tones...but be so wonderful that I always have something about you that I can't wait to share"

I have all these hopes and dreams for him. I realize that while I am, of course, fearful of him ending up on the spectrum, I don't dwell on it much. Sometimes I am equally terrified of what will happen when he reaches the age of three and is completely normal...what on earth do I know about raising a child without the aid of a team of therapists? But either way, my prayers for him don't change. I want him to know love, in all the different ways it appears in life. I want him to know how to love as a friend, loyal and honest. I pray that he discovers the joy of loving a wife, a working and joyful love. And of course, I hope he will (in the faaaar future) know what it's like to love a child, the complete surprisingly strong and pure love that threatens to overwhelm you the first time you hold them in your arms.

For now, I just want to teach him that I love him, that daddy and sister love him, and that God loves him. And I look forward to his little belly scootching turning into crawling. I am enjoying his wonderfully sunny personality and his quick smile! Yes, he is a good sleeper, but is also hilarious in his tendency to take over the whole bed and wake up in a completely different position than he drifted off in. He adores his sister, and will often look at her as though she is the world...even after she just bonked him over the head with a sippy cup.

Baby boy, you bring me joy! I won't forget to share that with the world.