[M]admissions From the Loony Bin

Dear Reader,

It isn't orthodox.

You've probably never heard it said out loud before.

It may shock you.

Beware.

I have two new years resolutions.

 Shocking, isn't it?

1. I will not go stark-raving mad.

[echo] mad, mad, mad

2. I will love - truly, madly, deeply

hmmm.. Sounds like a song, I like that.

So basically, I just want to be mad -

madly in love, that is,  and not go mad while I'm at it.

Sorry, it's just that oxymoron in me.

I can't help it. It's hereditary.

I'm madly in love with this boy.

He goes through life with his mouth open, like a baby bird, just waiting for food to fall in.

He eats all the time.

But in 2010 I will remind myself about how short this stage is.

I will tell myself not to lose my mind. It's only a messy house, after all.

Then I'll tell myself to quiet down, the neighbors are giving me weird looks, again.

He is teething. Something in the long trail of drool may have clued you in.

This too shall pass. He will not always be crabby and I will not always be going crazy trying to keep him from putting everything in his mouth. All too soon he will be the one giving me the strange looks to remind me not to mumble incoherently to myself.

Oh, wait. He already does that.

"Hold it right there, buster!

Don't you look at me with that tone of voice.

You are not allowed to start crawling.

No mobility allowed.

Do I look like I need to be worrying about cords, stairs, small toy---"  

"---What was I saying?  Look at you go! Isn't mommy's Pickle-ickle-puss getting so big?"

What can I say?

Something in that smile plays a melody on my heartstrings.
And whatever was pushing me over the edge is gone, just like that.

Who could be mad with a song in their heart?

So go right ahead, son, crawl. I can take it, just to see you smile.

But don't go too fast.

I like you little.

He is also begging to eat big people food.

At ten pounds fourteen ounces, I think he was born hungry.

Can't you hear it?

"Please, mom, please, just one bite."

So we started some food stuff.

He loves it.

I'm not so excited about the mess.

I feel sorta strange and sad about not being his only source or nutrition.

Baby food commercials don't warn you about that.

But then we skipped the whole baby-food thing.
He jumped right to carefully selected table food.

He's just not a baby-cereal-pureed-veggies man.

Third babies are like that.

He likes to be mad too.

Maybe it's hereditary.

Turns out food isn't so interesting, after all. It's kinda like sleep, highly overrated.

So despite the lack of sleep, teething crabbies, food messes, more laundry, need for increasing watchfulness, and general insanity, I'm going to love every minute of these days.

Look out, Dee, he's mine.

I'm going to take my chances to hold him tight. I'm gonna steal all the kisses I can,

Before he's going, going, gone.

And before these moments are only a memory, a maddeningly blurry one at that.

Happy New Year!

Love,

One Mad Mama