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January 1st, 2020

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March 6th, 2010

09:57 pm

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February 26th, 2010

09:07 am
AND, in the spirit of trying to make this lj more positive. I saw some meme where people listed their 10 favorite things about their S.O.

I'm going to do this, except for Lennon.

1. I love the way he takes my head in his hands and quickly and forcefully turns it to one side so he can examine my earrings.

2. I love the way he softly says "hi" when he greets someone.

3. I love the way he gets SO EXCITED and runs to the door when he hears that we're going bye-bye.

4. I love how his eyes scrunch up and he looks like a happy fat little Buddha when he's tickled.

5. I love how he rests his head on my shoulder for a split second after I pick him up from his crib, kind of like a hug.

6. I love how he giggles when I put his blanket on him when he's going to sleep.

7. I love how he gets all goofy and makes funny noises when he's getting sleepy.

8. I love how he eats his vegetables first before anything else on his plate.

9. I love it when he runs up to me and immediately wants to be held (even if only for a second) when I come home from work.

10. I love when he crawls into my lap on his own, just to sit with me, if only for a split second.

Aaaaand now I'm crying.

One of my long-time lj friends posted an entry yesterday that made me think. Even if it wasn't about me directly, I KNOW how my lj comes across. Everything I write about makes me seem like a monster who regrets her child. Which is not true at all. I only write in here when I'm upset, so it comes across that that's the way my whole life is. No, I still haven't adjusted to motherhood (but I'm getting there). No, my marriage is not great right now. No, my relationship with my parents is not a good or healthy one. But I still love my life, because he's in it. I love him more than anything. I don't regret a thing. Yes, I wonder how things might have been. But none of it matters because it doesn't get any better than just being the mother of this AMAZING, smart, beautiful, loving boy.

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