7 months of Ethan

16 01 2006

Ethan is looking more like a little boy and less like a little baby every day. I went into his room bright dark and early this morning, answering his ‘dadadada’s and ‘nananana’s heard over the monitor, which I translated to mean “If you don’t come in and get me right now, I’m going to play that game again where I hide under the blanket and go eerily still…”

I got to his crib and looked down at him, not only on the opposite end of where he’d been placed the night before, but upside down, too; how does he do that? When I put him on his tummy for play time and encourage him to crawl and move around, all he does is make this tortured meow-ing sound, and bang the floor with his little fists and big feet. Apparently if I’m not looking, Ethan is an accomplished crawler (must be that Move and Crawl Ball, huh, Dave?).

Anyway, as I looked at him, I was totally shocked into silence. For a few seconds, he just looked so old. I saw him as a teenager, asking me if he could stay out past curfew or something (as if I will give my kid a curfew; I still feel young enough to think that curfews are unfair). It was so freaky. I had to blink my eyes hard a few times and shake my head to try to bring my baby back.

When that didn’t work, the stench in the air did it for me. But the smell of that poop almost brought me to tears; not the ‘if I get poop up my fingernails again, I swear…’ kind of tears. But I seriously, for a split second there, thought that one day I will miss changing my baby’s diapers. Just for a second. And in that second, I was so incredibly sad that over the weekend, he’d learned to make a new sound (we can now add “babababa” to the list) and to pick up his Cheerios like a pro, and that soon he’d be making himself a bowl of Easy Mac and doing homework and getting in fights.

But for as sad I was, I was also so incredibly proud of him. Prouder of him going “ba” than I was of myself after giving birth. Prouder than I’ve ever been in my whole entire life. But not as proud as I will be tomorrow when he does something else new and amazing and exciting. And not as proud as I will be the day after that.

So this is what it feels like…



One response

21 01 2006
Ethan's Oma

yup…..that’s what it feels like. But wait until YOUR child has a child of his/her own. Talk about proud. ( I laughed so hard that I cried when you were talking about the tortured meowing thing. it’s really kind of embarrassing to cry in a public library, makes you want to show total strangers what you’re reading so they won’t think you’re crazy, except then you don’t think that will even work)

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