Uh, hi - here I am!

I don't even want to discuss how long it's been since I wrote anything here.  TOO long.  Like almost as long as the 4 month hiatus I took right after Nick was born and I was too busy dealing with being a postpartum depressed new mama, while simultaneously trying to deal with the new high of being "in love" that subsequently came with birthing the most beautiful baby boy on the planet.  (Biased, obviously, but whatever - it's my JOB to be biased.)

If you couldn't tell from the above paragraph, I've been feeling super nostalgic lately.  Most days I wrangle Nick into my lap while he's sitting on the floor playing, and just sit there smelling his hair like some kind of obsessed nanny off a Lifetime movie.  But seriously.  He just turned 2 and a half.  And at this stage in life, I am like, the ultimate awesome person to him.  He squeals "MAMA!" in excitement every time he sees me - first thing in the morning, when I pick him up from daycare in the afternoon, each time I return to the room from taking a poop.  It's like he can't believe I came back, and he is so happy to see me he might explode.

It's the most awesome feeling ever. 

Until I start to think about how in far too few years he'll be dissing me for friends, and crying when I come pick him up from daycare because "I just wanted to be the last kid picked up, I'm having so much fun!"  (This is no joke -- my brother and I used to say this to my mom on the reg. when we were in elementary school.  25 years later, she informs me that it was like a dagger to the heart every time.  Sorry mom.  Really and truly!)

I'm completely unprepared for the day that Nick decides I'm not the coolest person he's ever met.  Not in any way whatsoever am I ready for him to not willingly hold my hand or plant a big kiss right on my lips in public.  But I know those days are coming.  At lightening speed.

I suppose, that explains a bit of my blog absence.  You know, If I'm looking for a really good and legit sounding excuse.  But I've just been too busy enjoying my summer with my absolute most favorite little boy in the entire universe.  And smelling his oddly stinky feet any chance I get.  Because before long, he's not going to let me pretend to nibble on his dirty toes...and the thought forms a big old lump in my throat and makes me choke back tears. 

So pardon my lack of posting.  There's just too many moments passing by faster than I can capture them all - and while I'd like to write them all down, sometimes it's more enjoyable to just squeeze that chubby little hand in mine, let the red Popsicle drip down the front of his white shirt, and wrap him up in a sticky bear hug...breathing in these sweet and fleeting moments before he's flinging dirty sports socks my way and asking for the keys to my Buick.  Which, let's be honest, will be SO uncool to drive in 14 years.

Vocab explosion!

It's been awhile since I posted and I want to make sure I document the words Nick is saying as he says them because now that he's talking, he's taking off!

He now calls me 'mama' which is even better and sweeter sounding than I could've imagined. Mostly he says it when he's sad or sick (which he's been all week - so lucky me, I've been getting to hear 'mama' on overtime!)

He's also saying "ice", "apple", "bubble", "thank you", "please" (which sounds like puh-weaaase! And makes me melt every time), "pop", "hop", "more", "cheese", "keys", "peas" (anything ending with an "E" sound), and just this morning called himself "Nick".  He also is attempting (correctly I might add) more animal noises, and finally says "woof!" When asked what a dog says.  This makes lion, monkey, duck, dog, and cow noises that he will repeat or say on his own.

Every day he amazes me by repeating something I ask him to say, or coming out of nowhere with something new.  I know I'm forgetting words he can say because even as I type this post I keep thinking of words to add above.  This morning he wanted a glass of milk and slowly thought out the letters saying "M...mmm...miwk!"  I was so excited and impressed with the way he worked on saying it just right.

I'm also so proud of our little guy and the progress he is making with his speech therapist, with us at home, and just generally on his own.  Our therapist said he is one of the hardest working kiddos she works with and she wishes everyone of her clients tried as hard as Nick.  This made me so proud because I can really see how hard he's trying.  

I'm positive he'll be putting two and three words together soon and we'll have a full blown talker before long.  It's such an exciting time for all of us and even more rewarding to know we had a big part in the progress he's making!  Such a big boy!

21 days

They say if you do something for 21 days straight, it becomes routine.

After my mid-April post about my "quest" (more so a desire) to see my weight and my waist line decrease dramatically, I thought I would jump right into a healthier lifestyle.

But alas, I freaking love taco bell and cupcakes, and loathe most forms of exercise, so my plan didn't jump right into action.

By Mother's Day, my hips felt so wide that putting on a pair of even my roomiest jeans felt like that stupid period commercial where that size 2 chick has to lay back on her bed just to zip her skinny jeans because she's "oh so bloated".  What a liar.

Regardless, color me surprised when on the Monday after Mother's Day, Todd came home from a super long day at work, one in which went farther south than he planned on or cared to discuss, and said "well, I had intended for us to start jogging today, but after the day I had today, I really just need a beer".  Fair enough.  I chuckled ever so slightly, snorted "ha, are you serious?" and went ahead and brushed my shoulders off because after 5 weeks of constant nagging "pleeeeeease go for a walk around the neighborhood with me and Nick...pleeeeeeeeasssseeee?" I had all but given up on Todd joining me in any form of exercise.

But the next day came - Tuesday, May 14th.  Todd came home from work.  And right as rain, he demanded I put on my jogging clothes, bust out the jogging stroller, and sweat like a hog in heat.

That first day sucked ass.  There's no delicate way of putting it.  2 minutes of "light" jogging into it, and I thought my lungs were actually incinerated.  I confidently told Todd "I'm actually going to die right now", and stopped jogging.  I walked the rest of the way home.

But every day after that, at the same time of the afternoon, Todd made me put on my jogging clothes, and he pushed me a little bit farther every day.

Yesterday was day 21.  In all fairness, I suppose I should say day 20, because we took one rest day (yup, only one day off in 21 days) -- and we hated it.  Both of us were ready to get back to pounding the pavement.

Yesterday, on day 21, I jogged the hardest I have yet.  The course we've mapped out is only a 2.5 mile route through our neighborhood.  But the hills?  Oh my God the freaking hills.  I have never been able to jog up the hills in our 'hood.  Until yesterday.  Granted, I took a couple of short breaks to catch my breath and make sure my shins and feet were still attached to my knees, but yesterday I finally kept pace with Todd.

Ok, more so maybe he was scaling back to keep pace with me.  But yesterday I got my ass kicked.  And it felt freaking awesome.

I have never been more proud of my husband as I am in regards to his new found love of running.

He's now planning 5K's and mud runs, and all kinds of insanity, and I am ridiculously proud of him.  He has stuck with it, made it part of his every day routine, and in turn been able to coach me along and push me harder.

We are now "that family".  Loading up our jogging stroller, and heading out for a family jog in the evening's.  And the bonus is coming back from a family jog with a happy toddler from so much outside time, and soaking wet t-shirts from the sweat we poured out.

This past Sunday was our first family Burke Lake jog.  Granted, Todd jogged the majority of the lake, and I pushed Nick in the stroller at a fast-walk pace (occasionally handing him off to Todd so I could do some jogging), but we completed almost 5 miles as a family.  And it felt so good.

We're heading back to jog the lake again tonight.  My mom volunteered to take Nick so we could really push ourselves without an extra 60lbs of kid & stroller.  And - I can't believe I'm saying this - I cannot wait to get out there.

Me?  Todd??  Looking forward to running?  I never thought I'd see the day that either of us looked forward to it.  But here we are, 21 days later, and now it's a part of us.  And it feels awesome.  And it doesn't hurt that my fat pants don't feel so snug anymore, either. 

So yeah, I'm patting us on the back.  And I'm tooting our own horns.  In a big way.  Because, dare I say it... I think I finally "get it".  Running really is an incredible high.  Maybe I'll never feel that way WHILE I'm jogging...panting...sweating...cursing...spitting...gasping... but afterwards?  That's the best part.  And it makes the cupcakes taste that much better.
(no chance I'm giving them up...)

New words!

On Monday, after I picked Nick up from daycare, the babysitter said "oh, I meant to tell you, when you dropped Nick off this morning he walked over to the breakfast table, pointed at his bib and said "bib"!"

Naturally, when I asked him, Nick refused to repeat the word "bib" so I just decided it was another pop-out word that I probably wouldn't hear him repeat again for a while, and didn't push him any further.  But later that night, I heard him make the "beb" sound a few times, which eventually turned into "bebe" and then gradually into "bebeee".  I was so excited and started asking him to say it repeatedly, and every single time, he confidently said "bebee!" 

I attempted to morph his "bebee" into "bah-bye" for "bye-bye" and occasionally he would change his vowel sounds to match my "bye-bye".

I was super excited and couldn't wait to show the babysitter the next morning.  Naturally though, in true stubborn Nick form, when I dropped Nick off on Tuesday and asked him to say "baby" for her, he essentially refused, and ran off to play. 

But when we got home yesterday afternoon, Nick again started saying "bebee!" over and over.  I was so proud, but my heart about leaped out of my chest when Whinnie walked into the room and Nick looked right at her and said "Puh-pee!" 

Certain I either misheard him, or he just had a fluke pronunciation of 'baby', I said "that's right, Whinnie is our puppy!" to which Nick started repeating over and over "puh-pee!"  Clear as day - no mistaking his 'p' sound for the 'b' sound.  (I should note here that we never call whinnie a dog, and just as much as we call her "whinnie" we also call her "puppy" - so it's pretty certain that he picked it up from us.)

In the last 8-10 months, Nick has not been making any 'p' or 'b' sounds -- and he rarely, if ever, puts together consonant sounds followed by vowels.  But yesterday he had a HUGE breakthrough.  He was not only attempting the words baby and puppy, but he was completely owning them!

I was concerned this would be forgotten overnight, but this morning, before he'd even had a chance to wipe the sleep from his eyes, the first thing I asked him was "Nick, can you say 'baby'?" and he yanked his pacifier out of his mouth, grinned really big and said "bebee!!"  So I followed it up with "can you say 'puppy'?" and just as clearly, he said "puh-pay!"

Once we got to daycare this morning, I again had him repeat the words several times for the babysitter, this time using the 9 month old baby at daycare as "bait" for the word, and Nick was so awesome, he looked right at her and said "bebee!!", and then repeated "puh-pay!" when we asked.  SO FREAKING AWESOME.  I can't even explain it.

I thought I was proud before? Not even close to how my chest was puffing out this morning.

I came home and immediately emailed our speech therapist to tell her about Nick's progress.  I can't wait for him to show her tomorrow!

Next up is to work on the 'm' sounds a bit more so we can get him saying "mama".  As much as I can't explain how much it hurts my heart that I've never heard him call me "mama", I equally can't even put into words how proud I am of the huge strides he is making with his language.

Don't ever take your child's language skills for granted.  The next time your two year old is pulling on your last nerve and repeating over and over again "mommy! mommy! mommy!", think about how somewhere there is a woman that is aching to hear those words - whether it be due to language delays, missing her child, or not having a child at all - some woman is desperate to hear it.  And I promise it will put things into perspective.

Just because it was so cute...helping Daddy do push-ups after yesterday's family jog



Life these days (in parts)

Considering it's been almost an entire MONTH since I wrote anything, and I've been swirling no less than 100 different blog post ideas in my head on a daily basis, I figured it was time to get back into the swing of things.

The month of May has been nothing, if not jam-packed.  Between speech therapy and meetings surrounding such, Nick's third double ear infection in a span of two months, visitors coming and going, play dates and dinner dates, Mother's day, and lots of family time, we have been the definition of busy.  So, here are just a few highlights of our most recent fun...

 

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At the end of April, my brother treated Nick to a day of fun at the one place that a "kid can be a kid".  Nick got to experience his first taste of Chuck E Cheese's, and it did not disappoint.

We tried out just about every "ride-on game" available, but a lot of them were for older kids and Nick didn't care for them much.

Nick's favorite part was definitely the pizza, followed a close second by yanking the tickets out of the machine and spending so much quality time with his Uncle. 

Uncle Matt and I, on the other hand, enjoyed far too much skee ball and other assorted nonsense games.  Amazing how even at 30+ years old, you can still find such a thrill in seeing those tickets spew out of the machine.  We ended up with quite a few tickets, but decided it wasn't worth it to spend them on a bunch of cheap choking hazards for Nick that would ultimately land in the yard sale pile, so we agreed to have Uncle Matt hold onto them until we could go back again and apply them to a BIG! FUN! toy.

Not to mention at that point, Nick had had enough sensory overload and was ready to go home for nap time.  But we can't wait to get back to Chuck E Cheese with Uncle Matt again ASAP!

 

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Also at the end of April, Todd's dad flew up from Georgia to spend a long weekend of quality time with his favorite boys as Todd's brother drove up to join in the male-bonding.  They spent four days doing various house projects, including installing a light on my office ceiling fan, a gorgeous new ceiling fan in our master bathroom, an automatic sensor light in our basement storage room that flips on hands-free when you walk in, and a USB wall outlet port in the kitchen for our cell phone/iPad/Kindle chargers. 

 

We grilled out, went to Mike's American Grill, and essentially spent the entire four days of his visit eating and laughing (and drinking a few beers).  The big boys also got to have a guys night out to attend a Potomac National's baseball game, and Grandpa John got to spend lots of time with his favorite grandson (and sons)! 



 

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The beginning of May brought about Nick's second ear infection and some fraudulent charges on our checking account totalling over $700 and putting a bad taste in our mouths.  But we started Nick on another round of amoxicillin (which we would later realize didn't work) and filed a claim for the fake charges, and decided we weren't going to start our summer off on the wrong foot. 

 

So instead we decided to take Nick to do something I've been anxious to try since I first heard the words "it's a boy!" -- The Burke Lake Train!  Not that little girls can't ride the train, because even this little 30 year old girl L.O.V.E.D. it... (although that could have something to do with the excitement of riding with a two year old).  We probably asked Nick no less than 75 times if he wanted to ride a train, and every time he said "uh huh!" and pumped his little arm up and down in a "choo choo" motion.  So it was no surprise that he found the train to be, quite possibly, the most exciting moment of his little life to date.  He clapped, laughed and said "whoa!!" over and over.  And when the ride came to an end and we had to de-board the train, he waved goodbye and blew the train conductor kisses.  I have no doubt we will be riding this train no less than a dozen more times this summer (if it ever stops raining on the weekends!)

 

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On Mother's Day weekend, Todd finally got to put his birthday gift to use (only 3 months late) as our best friends the Schwass' came into town to head to a National's game with us! 

 

We dropped Nick off at Gramma and Boss' house for the weekend, and enjoyed beers and a whole lot of giggling (as Larissa and I tend to do when we get together with drinks) and even a little baseball watching.  I said it before we got married, and now four years later it rings truer than ever before, but I feel truly blessed that Todd has such an incredible best friend in Jay, and that I got to inherit two amazing friends for life in both Jay and Larissa.  We followed up the game with a fantastic dinner & drinks out in DC (accompanied by a 90's sing-along at the next table) and a full night's sleep, and it was not only a great birthday gift for Todd, but an enjoyable night before Mother's Day for me! 

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On Mother's Day I was also spoiled by my boys who gifted me an iPad mini!  Then we said goodbye to our friends, and packed up to spend the day at my parents house for what was my grandmother's 59th Mother's Day!  Her 59th Mother's Day and her 48th anniversary of being a cancer survivor.  We truly had so much to celebrate!  We enjoyed way too much food and lots of love and laughter as is standard when my family gets together. 

 

 

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Sadly we rounded out the weekend by discovering that the amoxicillin from Nick's second ear infection never worked, and the abundance of sleeping and whining he had been doing all weekend was due to his third double ear infection since mid-March.  So back to the doctor we went for a prescription for Omnicef, of which we are now on day 8 and crossing our fingers that it worked.

 

We're scheduled to go back for a follow-up in one week, and then have an appointment with the E.N.T. at the beginning of June.  With all the fluid that's taken up residence in Nick's ear, I'm slightly suspicious that it might be contributing to his speech delay, but we'll know more after the appointment.

 

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This past weekend, Todd's mom and brother came in for a visit, and while it rained the majority of the weekend, we spent plenty of time catching up and enjoying each other's company.  Nick got to do a little planting with his Nanny Mo (these pictures are actually from our Easter weekend in Newport News, but we haven't uploaded pics from this past weekend yet)...and we even got to have a big kids night out to the movies where Nanny so graciously stayed home with a sleeping toddler, while Todd, Matt and I went to see Iron Man 3 (so good!). 

Not to mention my sweet mother-in-law gave me my mother's day present - a big planter FULL of fresh romaine lettuce, and another planter (which she is bringing back up this week) of sweet yellow cherry tomatoes - so that I can have fresh-from-the-garden salads all summer long, picked right from our deck!  She knows me well!

 

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Other than that, we're gearing up for a nice long Memorial Day weekend at the Lake!  My Aunt Sis is coming in from Arkansas so it will be a full house with mom & dad, Aunt Sis, me, Todd, Nick, Matt and Ky and of course the three dogs!  Looking forward to golf (for them, not me), a big seafood boil, playground time, Plaza Azteca, games, and late night wine chats!  And most importantly, as Zac Brown Band so eloquently puts it -- putting my toes in the water, ass in the sand...not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand...

 

Life is good these days :)

 

 

 

 





Body image

I've been thinking about my body lately - a lot more than usual.

I've always struggled with my weight.  Not necessarily outwardly - in a way that my friends and family could tell.  It's been more of an inward battle. I wouldn't say I've ever had "body issues".  In fact, I often feel as though I should give my parents far more credit than I do, for raising me to believe I was - AM - beautiful, no matter what age, shape, or weight I am. 

In elementary school, I never once thought I was too fat or thin - and I don't ever remember thinking that about any of the other girls I went to school with, either.

As soon as I entered middle school and shifted from a normal little sixth grader, into an awkward glasses, braces, and extra-large leftover-from-the-80's bang-toting 7th grader, I began to feel a little self-concious of my appearance.  But I never remember feeling ugly or fat.  Just, awkward.

I remember my Aunt saying to me "you should wear a ponytail throughout middle school...every day...and then come back for ninth grade with no braces, contacts, and long blond hair!"  And to an extent, I did that.  Came back with a new look, joined the cheerleading squad, and started making an entirely new group of friends.  So much so, in fact, that once in the 10th grade, a group of friends and I were sitting around talking about middle school and one of my best guy friends said to me "wait, you went to our school in 7th and 8th grade?  I thought you were new last year!"  Apparently I really had made an appearance change.

Being a cheerleader, I developed some serious muscles. My thigh muscles were strong; my biceps toned. When people would see our arms and say "wow, do you lift weights?", my best friend Sara and I used to love to joke (seeing as we were "bases") "no, we lift other girls!" Throughout high school, I wore a size 5 or 7 pants comfortably (oh to wear junior sizes again...sigh). I was always relatively thin.  Never worried about being overweight. 

When I went off to college, I stopped working out almost altogether.  In most cases, one would think this would be bad for your body, but for me, it was the opposite.  I lost all of my muscle tone from cheerleading, but was still walking a couple of miles a day on campus back and forth from my dorm to classes, the dining hall, etc.  As my muscles disappeared, but my diet remained relatively small (just lunch and dinner thanks to sleeping in late and meal plans!), instead of gaining the freshman 15, I dropped it.  I was wearing a size 4 regularly, a size 2 on good days.  Sure, I drank my fair share of calories in bud light and boone's farm, but as college went on, I took on a waitressing job, only upping the amount I was walking per day and continuously burning calories without really trying.

And then I graduated.  And stopped working as a waitress.  I started a desk job.  Moved out on my own - buying my own food.  Drinking just as much as in college.  Doing FAR less physical activity.  And the weight started to creep on.

I started to feel bloated and unattractive most of the time.

The guy I was dating made sure to tell me I looked gross.  And in a way, I couldn't blame him.  I went from a size small, with a flat stomach, to having a muffin top and cellulite.  And all I could do was eat and drink away my unhappiness.

When I finally ended that relationship and moved into an apartment on my own, I started to drop a tiny bit of weight.  And then it happened.  I found the Arlington night life.  And I started going out 3-5 times a week.  A WEEK.  Talk about carb overload.  I'm surprised I didn't smell like beer or vodka-tonics around the clock.  It wasn't so much that I was a drunk.  I was never out of control.  I just was completely enjoying the young, single, city lifestyle.  To the fullest.

Until I realized I was lonely.  And going out drinking several nights a week was only a temporary void filler.  So I scaled it back.  Started spending more nights in with my puppy.  And magically the weight started to fall off.  Amazing how cutting out the beer made the pounds melt off.  I started going to the gym occasionally - walking, sometimes jogging (but let's be serious, mostly walking).

I met Todd and was back in a happy place with my life.  Both in my relationship, and in my internal body image.

Since Todd and I became a couple, we've both gone through our ups and downs with weight - falling into that relationship comfort zone...racking up a few pounds here and there because it's so damn fun to go out to dinner with someone you love!

But before I got pregnant with Nick, I was actually in decent shape.  My clothes were all in the range of size 6 to 8.  I was healthy -- and not insecure.

And then I got pregnant.  And suddenly I felt as though it was totally ok to have a big bowl of cocoa puffs before bed.  Every night.  Sometimes followed by a helping of mashed potatoes.  And suddenly I was 37 weeks pregnant, tipping the scales at just over 200 lbs, and living this fantasy that as soon as Nick came out, my weight would go back down.

To an extent, it did.  I was under 200 lbs just after he was born.  Down around 180 when we left the hospital.  But I still felt gross.

After I finally bounced back from my battle with post-partum depression, I started to focus on myself a bit.  Walking to be healthy.  Eating better than I ever had.

By the time Nick was a year old, I was around 160 lbs.  And while that was 20 lbs more than I wanted to be, I didn't find myself disgusting.  I still didn't have bad body image so much as a drive to look better.

So last summer, I put my big girl panties on, got back to the grindstone, and started really working out.  I was walking every day, often jogging - doing the couch to 5K program, and doing Jillian Michael's 30 day shred.  I was nowhere near where I wanted to be in terms of weight, but I could tell I was getting more toned.  I started to like how I looked in clothes.  And I really started to like how I was feeling - not out of breath or sluggish.

And then we went on vacation to Myrtle Beach -- and all of my progress went right out the window with the seafood dinners and daily ice cream cones.  I fell off the wagon.  And here we are almost a year later, and I have yet to get back on it.

Until now.

So I'm putting it all out here for the world - as in my 26 followers who all know me in real life and may or may not tell me when I'm looking a little "swollen" (what's up mom!) - to keep me accountable.

I don't want to be this heavy any more.  I don't want my thighs to rub together under my maxi dress.  I'm sick of digging my shorts out of my crotch when I walk.  I don't want my arms to flap in the breeze when Nick and I are at the playground, and I sure as hell would like to wear a shirt that's more tailored to my body without having to worry about how muffiny my muffin top is that day.

I've already succumbed to the fact that I won't ever wear a bikini again, because dammit, nobody wants to see my stretch marks.  But I'd like to feel confident in my tankini.  Maybe it won't happen in time for this summer.  But maybe it will.

All I know is that I'm finally ready - ready to get back on the wagon - to stick with it - to get myself into shape. And I'm holding myself accountable.  I'm going to throw out the mindset that "well, this one slice of pizza won't hurt anything" because let's be real - one slice means four...followed by a trip to Dairy Queen. 

I'm releasing my inner chubby kid.  And I'm giving in to a better lifestyle.  Because I don't want to be the fat mom on the beach.  I want to be able to breathe when Nick begs me to chase him around the playground over and over again.  I want to look in the mirror again and feel confident in my size.  And I want to get the tattoo that Todd finally agreed I could get - the reward I'm putting in place for myself after I lose the first 15 lbs.

So if you see me out, ready to cram a bacon cheeseburger in my pie hole, feel free to slap it out of my hand.  Because Lord knows I'm gonna need a few reminders, and a whole lot of ass kicking along the way.

Hold my hand for today, my heart forever

I took Nick over to the playground last night.  It was well past his bedtime, but there was still so much daylight left and the warm weather had me feeling generous, so off we went.  The playground is a stone's throw from our house.  Typically I'll carry Nick over there, partially because I'm impatient and want to get there ASAP, but mostly because Nick is in a very independent stage - one in which he prefers to NOT hold our hands whilst running amok -- and while we live on a relatively private street with very minimal traffic (only local homeowners coming and going), I fear him darting into the street in front of a car.

But last night he was perfect.  As soon as we stepped foot on the sidewalk, he reached up for my hand, and held it tightly the entire walk to the playground.  I purposely slowed my stride and strolled at his short-legged two year old pace.  We stopped to point things out in the grass and pick up sticks.  Paused to wave to daddy as he worked in the backyard.  A less than one minute walk to the playground took us closer to 4 minutes...and I relished in every ticking second as his sweaty, chubby little fingers squeezed my hand in excitement with every new observation and every nearing step to the playground.

When we finally arrived, a group of 5th and 6th grade boys were playing a game on the playground equipment - one that involved a lot of jumping and climbing, as well as loud shouting.  Nick was beside himself and walked right into the middle of the group of boys, waving and saying "hi!".  The boys were kind and said "hi!" back to him, but continued on with their game.  I decided to give Nick some space, and sat back on a bench to watch him play.

But no sooner had I settled onto the bench, than my toddler came running over with a huge grin on his face.  He used all of his might to climb up on the far end of the bench, then carefully balanced as he walked towards me, placing a tiny hand on each side of my face, gave me a kiss, and giggled as he fell into my lap. 

As I tickled Nick and laughed with him, I listened to the older boys playing in the background -- and my eyes began to fill with tears.  Because it occurred to me that at this moment in time, I am Nick's very best friend.  I am his shelter.  His comfort.  His calm.  His protector.  He is not embarrassed to be seen with me - or even more so, to kiss, hug, and love on me in public.  We hold hands and snuggle and giggle and he loves it just as much as I do. 

A huge knot formed in my throat as I thought about how in just a few very short years, this would all change.  Soon he won't need to hold my hand to walk to the playground, because there won't even be time for me to yell out "be careful!" as he's running out the door to play with his buddies.  The kisses and cuddles in public will be all to embarrassing in front of his friends.  And I will be replaced with a best friend his own age.

Sure, Todd and I will still be Nick's protectors.  And we will always try to be his sense of calm and comfort.  But it pains my heart to know that this time of pure innocence and blatant love for us is fleeting.  I want to hold Nick in the palm of my hand forever.  I want to relish in every hand hold and hug and kiss and giggle.  A part of me wants him to never grow up.

I went to bed last night with this thought weighing heavy on my mind.  I kept thinking about the little boys at the playground - wondering if their mommies were sad that they no longer held hands; were no longer looked at as their sons best friends.  And I couldn't shake this sense of worry and sadness.  Will I know one day when Nick is holding my hand as we walk along, that this is the last time he will willingly hold it?  Will I be able to capture that memory and carry it with me forever?

And as I was putting Nick in the car this morning, I saw one of the young boys from the playground last night walking to the school bus.  He was happy, smiling, chatting away.  And I had to wipe away a tear of joy as I did a double-take...because the person he was happily giggling with, was his mom. 

And they were holding hands.

Maybe, just maybe, I will always be Nick's favorite person.  Because God knows, he will always be mine.