Posted on October 19 2016
When Jack was born something both broke and healed in me. The labor was long, natural and hard. I realized once he was in the world, I had so much more to lose. I could no longer watch dramatic movies or movies with heartbreak. I stopped watching the news. I couldn't emotionally handle it. I started listening to top 40 hits and gravitated towards mindless action movies. Avengers? Yes, please.
Jack quite literally cut something open in me. But I think he did that in order for me to love wholly. And while he may have changed me internally, it's not a bad thing to have this part of me always open, to have my heart right there and ready for him. Because with him came so much joy.
His first smile: two week old. It wasn't gas. I promise. His first laugh: two weeks after that. It sounded like the heeeeeee part of a donkey's heehaw. Jack has been laughing since he was a month old and hasn't stopped. Yes, we are getting some tantrums, but I wouldn't call them terrible. And yes, there are bad days where I feel like running away and wind up at Target instead buying beer and toilet bowl cleaner and more socks I'll lose the pairs to in a few days. This life? It's glamorous, yeah? But it's so much love. Like love in my fingertips, it's so much love. No other experience in my life has enabled me to feel love through my entire body.
He's a wild boy, but not in a bad way. He loves being outside. Hiking, water, sand, dirt, grass, sky - Those are his people. He's a sweet boy - says goodnight to the sun, rests his head on the cat to feel how soft she is, weaves his thumb in and out of his blankets or your fingers and says, "Hi, mama! How u doin?" He's curious - always asking what things are so he can learn. "Eh?" and he points and I say "Microwave" and he says "macoweve." Even the hardest words. Even anemone. He'll butcher it, but he'll try and stick it to memory.
He loves going to Diamondback's games - does the wave, claps to the beat of the crowd and got his first game ball about 5 months ago. He loves stealing rocks from the neighbor's yard and pushing them down his slide and then returning them without having to be asked. The days for him are simple - airplanes in the sky and examining rollie pollies - but not without adventure and heart.
His style is definitely developing. Some days he hates wearing pants (takes after his father). Most days he'll let me dress him, but is very particular about his shoes. Boots. He would wear his boots to bed if we let him and he's slowly becoming more opinionated about his shirts. He loves getting wet, getting dirty, sitting in puddles and so many days we go through multiple outfits. The weather is finally getting nice again in Phoenix and I love being able to get him outside, let him get rocks in his shoes, let him fall if he falls. He picks himself up. He shakes it off. He dives back in.
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