You can completely shut down my brain function through the simple act of crying. When my baby cries, I can't read. I can't see straight. I can't process basic thoughts. I can't answer questions.
For example: When we were visiting Ken and Kari in Reno, we went to a sandwich shop. As we were ordering, you began wailing in my arms. Your voice pierced through my ear drum and emptied my brain of cognitive ability. I think the restaurant lady was asking if I needed a drink with my sandwich. I couldn't answer. I couldn't do a thing except hold you and panic. You were fine and I knew it, but my brain wouldn't permit me to form a response to the lady. Your Uncle Ken ordered me a drink. I didn't need it - I had a bottle of water from home in my purse. But I could not think well enough to say so.
Also, you sat on my lap this week as I tried to process an overnight shipment to Key West. It was my first overnight shipment ever, and I had to get it done in about 20 minutes to make it out in time. You were tired, or sad, or both. You cried, and in my stress, I asked you to stop crying. You cried harder. I asked you to stop crying again. You cried harder. At this point, you achieved total meltdown of Mommy's brain, and I pulled your sobbing body onto my lap. I couldn't think again until you fell asleep there. We didn't get the shipment out the way I intended, but Plan B worked fine and all was well.
Darling, I need you to use your powers for good and not evil. I hope you know that it's because I am so focused on your health and happiness that one wail from you reduces me to rubble. So please be kind. Try to learn to just fall asleep if you're tired, or close your eyes if you see something that scares you. That will help me look less like a spazzed out idiot in public.
On a sad note, we tried to nurse a baby bunny that a neighbor found rolling around in the dirt. I fed it, let it sleep on a heating pad in a little box, and carried it around in my bra for a couple days. You learned to expect it to be there. You called it "baby mon-mon" because I told you it was a bun-bun. You still pat my chest sometimes and ask if baby mon-mon is there, though I told you it fell asleep forever and Daddy put it outside. Your memory is amazing, and you are ever hopeful that mommy has the mon-mon in her bra. I wish I did, too.
After the bunny died, Grandpa Tractor came to visit for a couple days. You liked him pretty well. He played with you and teased you a lot. You started calling him "Papa" - short for Grandpa, I think. He loves you. He put shutters on our house and built my peas a fence to climb up. He is still learning to understand that you are a sensitive little guy. His sense of humor is generally not very sensitive.
Lastly, today is Mother's Day. It is my third Mother's Day of actual motherhood (cat parenting does not count, I've come to see). I'm still in awe of you, my child, and adore you. You're growing up a little every day. You learn a new word in a snap. Uncle Jake (not really your uncle, but we all like him) taught you what a wine cork is two nights ago, and you got it right away. I was changing your diaper the other day and happened to mention that I was cleaning your poo hole. You caught on immediately, and now like to talk about your poo hole. (Mommy suffers a bit of remorse about that.) And today I taught you how to rub your hands together when washing them, and it's pretty much the cutest thing on earth.
You are taking a nap now. I wish I was snuggling you and smothering you with kisses. Thank you for all that you give me every day. XOXOXO
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