Holding on, letting go, and other stuff

I'm emerging from the haze of last week's sore throat/fever/stuffy head/sinus infection, and I'm not real sure what I'm going to blog about here, but I felt an obligation to post something. I guess this will be a general update.

J. and I had a very good night on Tuesday. I don't know exactly why, but it was really nice. I'd gotten off the phone with Tingle, who is feeling down, and I was then feeling down because of course I wish I could make everything better for her. I went out to the living room where J. was just channel surfing and I started talking to him about her and then asked my favorite question, "Why is life so fucking hard?" We talked a little bit about how we could make our lives happier. We discussed the allure of just packing up and moving and starting over somewhere but quickly dismissed it because I couldn't and wouldn't take Bubba so far away from his Nana and Papa, aunt, uncle and cousins, and obviously there are things we enjoy about where we are living, especially our friends LilCherie and her husband and son, my friend H., and J.'s softball/movie buddies.

Anyway, we just had a nice chat, with a little humor thrown in, about life. Then we both went downstairs, J. got on the computer and we updated our Netflix queues and in the process we talked about movies and stuff. We actually genuinely enjoyed being around one another. It was energizing--we've both been a little less grumpy toward one another this week. It's the good times like this that make me realize why I'm still with J. -- but they are also what makes the matter so complicated when we are not getting along. Sigh.

Bubba is getting to be so funny. I really need to start writing this stuff down--maybe I'll post Bubba updates here (even if they are boring to you, poor readers) just to get it down. Last week when I was sick he came over and brought me his blankie and threw it over me, then brought me his other blankie and threw it over me, then brought me his bunny and kitty and a car, and finally he rubbed my arm, looked into my eyes with concern and then felt my forehead! It was so cute.

It is fascinating to see him work on expressing himself. His speech is still half-babble, half words, but every day it gets a little bit easier to understand him. The other day we were sitting down to dinner and he refused to eat it, saying over and over again "geen bos! geen bos! Mease!" Translation: "Green box! Green box! Please!" Finally I figured out he was referring to the green and white box of Junior Mints on the table. We gave in and gave him a couple and then he was happy.

He says "bye-bye" to everything -- people, cars, animals, SpongeBob, even the moon. He loves looking at the moon and always says "Big moon!" when we're driving home in the dark. One day about a month ago he was looking out the window and said "Big moon! Big moon!" Then he ran over to the door and said "Outside. Big moon!" I wrapped us up in a blanket and we went out the front door and stood on the sidewalk for a good two minutes or so, just staring at the moon. Then he was satisfied and we went back in.

He also loves to say "Cool!" to anything he finds, well, cool, like a big truck or a nice dog we encounter on one of our walks. On Saturday, we put up the Christmas tree and his first words when we plugged it in were "Cool tree!" Then he said "Yellow, blue, green, red, pink!" as he looked at the lights. Even now when we come into the house at the end of the day and plug in the tree, he says "Cool tree!"

Looking back over the last few paragraphs, I realize that Bubba speaks mostly in exclamation points. Wouldn't it be great to have such passion for everything?

I have to say that I am enjoying motherhood more now than I ever have. I still find it incredibly challenging -- oh hell, fucking hard -- and just about every day I feel that I'm failing at something. That he's watching too much TV, that he never eats vegetables and hardly ever eats meat, that we aren't consistent enough in discipline matters, that we don't do enough "enriching" activities with him. Dressing him is like wrestling a wild beast covered in Aquaphilic and usually results in at least one time out or a toy being taken away. Most days, even though he's been at daycare all day, I'm still ready for him to go to bed at 8 p.m.

On the flip side, though, are the moments like the ones I wrote about -- moments when I can see his budding empathy for others, his triumphs at getting what he wants, his pure silliness and desire to make us laugh. And there are moments like last night, when we put him to bed and he began his regular evening cryathon. We really try not to go in there after we've said goodnight in order to reinforce that bedtime is bedtime, but last night he called "Mama!" -- one of the few times he's called for me instead of his dad -- and I couldn't resist. I went in and he was standing up and said "Hi ma. Rock," and went over to the rocking chair. I rocked his 33-pound body, smelled his just-washed hair, and rubbed his back that's getting bonier as he slims down and morphs from a chubby baby to a little boy. He fell asleep and I just kept rocking for awhile, enjoying the feel of him on my shoulder and already feeling sad that there will come a day when he won't fit there anymore.

When I was trying so hard to get pregnant I didn't think about the sad part of being a parent. When I lost Hope, my love for her was so wrapped in my sadness over losing her that the feelings were almost one in the same. And you know what? I realize that my love for Bubba isn't really that different. With every new skill Bubba masters, I'm filled with pride and joy at his accomplishment -- and at the same time, an ache for what's just been lost.