I've been holding John a LOT. He's six months old on Friday. In my arms is his preferred mode of experiencing the world. And though I do need my arms here and there - to cook, to clean, and sometimes to remain sane, it's actually MY preferred mode for experiencing the world. Holding a baby, that is. As I'm holding him at the end of the night, looking the mirror with him in my arms (because most of the time I can't really see him since he's in my arms), I realize I am obsessed. How do you slow this baby time down? How do you really soak in all in? I realize it's annoying really. You can't talk to me about normal things, details of the day, or even gossip. I just don't really care. All I care about is milking this time. (No pun intended.) He's just so perfect. And right now, he's mine. All mine. (I can pretend.) Any time I want, I get to hold him, squeeze his chubby legs, rub his SO soft head, listen to him make bubbles, feel his sweet breath, smell his baby smell. Mind you, I'm training him I know. To need me, need me, need me. But he's #4. I know it will all work out. Maybe I need to look at him more. Or go on more trips, which I seem to always remember. Or take more pictures (if possible!), or make more videos. I've got to be present. I know that's the answer. I just wish my memory weren't so short.
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