His eyes light up.   I can even see a twinkle in those bluish green orbs.    A smile quickly spreads across his face, and before I know he is in a full on state of laughter.

He claps his hands quickly.   As I take a seat on the floor, he waddles over to me and wraps one arm around my neck while bouncing up and down with excitement.

I love that he loves this pastime.   It’s one of my favorites and WAS one of my favorites when I was a child.   I don’t know how much my husband enjoyed doing this as a child, but as an adult he’s more voracious that I am.

I have yet to find anything that elicits such excitement from Davey.   I have yet to find something that can keep him so entertained, so enthralled.    And I attribute a lot of this to the fact that I started reading to him when he was just a few weeks old in my womb.

He has these 2 particular books that he loves, one of which I read to him continuously when he was nothing more than my little parasite.    The second book, we picked up after Christmas and he absolutely adores it.   My only concern is that it’s just these two books that seem to get him excited about reading.   He has a whole library full of books, some of which will be better for him as he gets older, but plenty of them that can be read at this age.  Funny thing is that when I try to introduce a new book to him, he seems to get upset with me.   It reminds me of trying to introduce something healthy to a junk food fanatic.

Either way, it’s really of no concern to me.   I’m just tickled pink that my boy loves books (even if it’s only 2 right now) as much as his daddy and I do.   It’s only a matter of time before we’ll be able to expand out.  Right now, I’m going to enjoy his excitement over this little pastime.

My mom was and is Super Mom.  I can remember how she was able to do EVERYTHING.  She worked outside of the home my entire life (and still does).   She was up early every morning, Monday through Friday, to get herself ready before loading up two kids for school and/or daycare and then hitting the corporate world to make a living.   She picked us up after work, brought us home, and cooked dinner.

She wasn’t a single mom and my dad was always in the loop, usually assisting “behind the scenes” either with homework or any sort of school related issues we had, but she seemed to be the one keeping everything flowing.

After dinner, she cleaned house, did laundry, or yard work, pretty much kept up the semblance of a healthy, balanced house and home life.

When we were younger, she gave us our baths, got us into bed (all with the help of my dad) and then would retire for the evening.

As we got older, she was always able to balance home life with work life, especially with all of our after school extracurricular activities that would cut into her nights and weekends.  She was a juggler who was never trained in the sport and not a jack of all trades, but rather THE MASTER.   I admired my mother for her work ethic, her love, her devotion, and her ability to sacrifice every part of herself for me and my brother.   I still admire her at 37 and as a mother myself.  I aspire to be like her as much as possible and if I could be 1/10th as good of a mother as she is, then I will be happy.

This week, I hit a bit of a depression state all triggered by the shattering of our glass top stove.   I had myself second-guessing everything I did as a mother.   I had myself doubting my abilities as a mother.   I actually said things to my husband that gave him reason to pause with worry and looking back on it, I can’t believe I allowed something so tangible and replaceable as a stove, to shatter my confidence and resolve.

I spent the better part of 7 hours crying in front of my son, cuddling him in my arms, rocking him, apologizing to him for having me as a mother.   I can only imagine what he thought of me and the situation.

When I wasn’t crying, and even while I was crying, I compared myself to my mother and the standards she unconsciously set forward as a mother.   What would she think about me and the situation?   So, I called her after the 7 hour crying spell and like always she came through as Super Mom and the river of tears were dammed up.

There’s always an underlying “theme” to a lot of my posts…being a mother is so HARD.   I’m challenged every day with some days feeling like I’ve been knocked down the stairs a few times.   Thankfully for me, I have a tremendously huge support network of friends and family and the best baby in the world.

And in case you’re wondering what sent me on my downward spiral, here’s a picture of it.

I’ve said it before…being a mom is the most difficult job in the world.   You’re always second guessing yourself, operating from time to time off of emotions, stressed over minor injuries, and worried about how you’re doing as a whole in the motherhood department.

Each day I ask myself if I’m doing enough for Davey.   Should I be reading to him more?  Should I be playing with him more?  Should I have him interact with other people more?   Should I be pushing him harder to be everything he can be at this age?   It’s stressful!  

Lately, Davey has become a bit more clingy.   I don’t know if that’s because of his age or if I’m doing the damage by constantly making myself available to him at every whim.  

Davey doesn’t play alone for long.   If I leave the room for more than a few minutes, he starts crying.   I’ve always been quick to come back to him and not because I’m worried about how he is, but more because I don’t like hearing him cry for long.   It tears at my nerves!  

Last week, my husband and I tried to handle an issue with our air conditioning units in the attic.   We put Davey in his room, put the baby gate up (he’s crawling and has started walking) and pulled out all of his toys.  I played with him for a couple of moments as I was hoping that he would continue to play when I walked away.  Not the case.

For a half an hour, he clung to the baby gate and cried.   He screamed.   He grunted and growled, closed his hands up into fists and his face started getting red.   My husband and I actually thought we heard him crying the words, “ma ma” which really tore at my heart.  

So, I’m asking all of you moms out there…is this normal?  Am I doing the damage by constantly being in the same room with him all of his waking hours?   I know he does fine when I leave him with my aunt or my parents, but they have to be in the same room with him otherwise he cries.   What can I do to fix this?   Am I worried for no reason?   Is it too soon, at 9 & 1/2 months, to be concerned about him not being independent enough? 

Please help!

I still have a fear of the water.  I suppose it could be the unknown that really drives my paranoia.  For example, I won’t get too far into the ocean, at least not the Atlantic, because I can’t see what’s in the water.  

I have a hard time sticking my head under the water even in a swimming pool, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold my breath and that I’ll drown.   Once my husband and I went snuba-ing in Grand Cayman.   Well, I did more of what’s considered snorkeling.   The instructor had to take the added weights off of me due to my fear of a hole being in my air line and that I wouldn’t be strong enough to swim to the top.   Thanks to the weights, I would drown.  I could actually feel the pressure on my entire body and my anxiety increase.  

Thankfully, my son appears to be just the opposite.

I didn’t learn how to swim until I was 7 years old and my fish in the water routine couldn’t be attributed to swim lessons, but instead to a very devoted uncle who took time out of his evenings to teach me one summer.  

The thought has crossed my mind to put Davey into swimming lessons, but I decided to hold off on that and just spend this summer getting him acclimated to the water. 

Davey has always enjoyed taking a bath but that wasn’t a guarantee that he would appreciate the pool (and we’re still a little over a month away before his first beach trip).   Fortunately, my son has a huge sense of adventure and zero fear.   I say fortunately, although I’m sure at some point in the future that lack of fear and adventurous spirit means he won’t use his head and do something stupid.  We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. 

Two weeks ago, Davey pushed himself free from my grip and went head first into our community pool.  Needless to say he aged me quickly in those few seconds, but when I pulled him up he coughed out some water, laughed at me, and then screamed to go back for seconds!  

This past Saturday we spent the day at my mom and dad’s house.  Davey sat on the porch with my mother and me.   My dad walked out to the garage to get Davey’s float.   The moment he walked out the door and towards the pool, float in hand, Davey’s eyes lit up.   He crawled over to the window, reached out for his Papa (or maybe the float) and even let out a whine.   Within a matter of moments, he was jumping up and down with impatience.   He squirmed little a fish OUT OF water while I tried to change his clothes and put on his swimsuit.  

After a slight wait while I changed my clothes, we were in the pool and my water baby was splashing around and loving every minute of it.  

I look forward to every opportunity to get him in the water, to watch him explore and learn something new.  And I can hardly wait to see his reaction to the ocean.  Stay tuned