This morning I've found myself feeling a little nostalgic, maternal and mushy towards my little 7 month old man. He's doing so much these days, rolling over, pushing up, quasi-crawling, babbling the sweetest unintelligible strings of vowels and consonants and generally warming my heart.
He's also been difficult this week. All these new activities lead to face planting occasionally, and melting down often. He's hit the separation anxiety milestone head on, crumpling into a mess of sobs when I'm not in his line of sight. It's a challenge, but a phase and I know we'll make it through.
I was watching him sleep this morning and clearing out the photos on my phone because I've maxed the storage chronicling Arlo's first 7 months. I was looking at these photos of him just a few weeks old and almost got weepy thinking of how quickly time has flown.
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| Arlo, 7 weeks |
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| Arlo, 7 months |
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| Sleeping Babe :) |
And so, with a big case of the feels, I wrote this for my boy today:
Precious hands grasping for purchase, gentle tugs at my shirt. Warm contentedness curled beside me. This is love.
Crooked smiles turned to a smirk, deep belly laughs prompted by my tickles. Curious fingers always discovering. This is love.
Frustrated cries from a tumble, anxious glances when I walk away. Needing your mama all the time. This is love.
A softer heart, a softer body, stronger arms for soothing you. A change of title, a change of pace. Priorities and paradigm shifted. This is love.
