My Baby Keeps On Growing!

So I'm back . . . again. The holidays are here and gone, it's 2010, and what now? I always feel a sense of depression after the holidays, the letdown of it all, I suppose; the fact that Amy, Cullen, and I were all sick for Christmas didn't help. But it's a new year, full of plans and hopes and dreams, a clean slate. One thing that I am super-aware of at the moment is how fast my baby is growing.

Now, obviously, any intelligent person is aware that their baby is constantly growing, from the moment of conception. But for some reason, I seem to be hypersensitive to that fact currently. The growing stack of storage tubs in his closet holding mounds of adorable (and tiny) baby clothes, anxiously awaiting Act II when they can debut on baby brother or sister; the toys (and toys and toys!) constantly being rotated and getting more and more advanced; the growing number of feats he can accomplish, providing us with a longer list of things to look out for (ex. As I exited the bathroom this evening, I happened to glance at the stairs and noticed my baby boy smiling at me through the banister, so proud of himself for independently climbing halfway up the stairs. Yes, we have gates, no it wasn't latched, and thank Goddess he knows how to climb on his hands and knees. We're not perfect, we're parents! [courtesy of Nick Jr.]).

He's so beautiful when he runs across the room, looking back over his shoulder to assure that I am close behind, chasing him, gaining on him. His laughter rings out as he does a 180 and runs into my legs, wanting me to pick him up and snuggle him--which I do, of course. He loves to dance, to any music that comes on and also to Guitar Hero. As soon as he hears his Momma come home from work and call out, "Hello," he could be anywhere in the house, but drops what he's doing and runs towards her voice, laughing the whole way. He climbs on everything in sight at this point and loves to give kisses and hugs. He says, "up" when he wants held and feeds himself with his miniature utensils.

It was kind of funny, an experience I didn't expect, when I was in Pizza Hut last night picking up dinner. I was waiting for our food and I happened to look over and noticed a family with a set of twin boys that had just walked in. The boys were maybe somewhere between 12 and 14, and they were cute, with their reddish-blonde hair and their skater clothes. My chest swelled slightly and my heart ached for Cullen (at home with Momma) as I thought, "He's going to be that big--and bigger!--one day, and my love for him will feel just like this, just the same." He will always be the one I would die to protect, worry incessantly about, and whose world I will always want to be perfect.

What did I do before him? I certainly can't remember . . .