Today, it's Not About Me

As you all know, my blog is not family-oriented. Every post is not about Brandon, or Cade, but, rather selfishly, it’s usually about me.

But I’ve been reflecting a bit about my dear, sweet son, and I wanted to write a bit about the awesomeness that is him, especially as his second birthday is fast approaching, (on Monday, August 4th) and very soon he will no longer be a baby, but a boy.

Cade has a ridiculously amazing vocabulary for such a young boy. Every single day he surprises me with new words that I have no idea how he learned or where he heard them from. Yesterday, as Brandon was showering, he ran into the bathroom, threw aside the shower curtain, looked at Brandon, and enthusiastically exclaimed,

Daddy’s bum…in the water!

In the morning, after I’ve finished dressing, he’ll look me up and down, and then say, CUUUUUUTE!! Mama’s cute!

Yesterday in the car, I was cut off, and I yelled, “Oh my he--…oh my HECK,” and he then echoed loudly, “HECK! Heck heck heck!” I’m so glad I caught myself on that one…I know that hell is a place and not technically a swear word, but still. I don’t want him repeating that, especially in church, where I swear he’d do it just to humiliate me.

Also, his present obsession is with shoes. I worry about it a little. He preens around in my high heels, and is even better at walking in them than I am – and that’s saying a lot, coming from a previous runway model. :) If I’m not wearing shoes, he has a major freak out and brings me a pair – I must be wearing some, at all times, even if I’m sprawled on the couch with him watching cartoons. He changes his shoes several times a day, going from his cwocs (crocs) to his sandals to his tennies to his chooch (church) shoes. Every morning he’ll pick out a pair for me to wear, and if I set them aside and choose another pair that matches my outfit more, he throws a fit and seems mortally offended I wasn’t as enthusiastic about the shoes he picked out for me as he was.

Yesterday I walked into his bedroom to find him in a pair of my heels with his hand down his pants. How could he simultaneously capture the femininity of heels and the nasty manliness of having your hand down your pants, all at the same time? It was definitely a laugh out loud moment for me. I swept him up in my arms and kissed him and kissed him until he pushed my face away and said, “No mo, mama!” Sigh. Sometimes he seems so over-burdened with my love. But I can’t help it.

I’m so happy I’m a mama. My pregnancy was a surprise, and I was terrified. I was never upset that I got pregnant, or begrudged his little alien presence in my uterus, but I was scared, so fearful of being a mom, of somehow caring for him and raising him to be happy and healthy and relatively sane (well, at least more sane than me – that’d be a worthy goal, right there). Every therapist or mental health professional I’ve ever talked to have all told me that true recovery from an eating disorder only works if you do it for yourself, and not for anybody else. I’m not sure I entirely agree. I truly believe that my Cade man was a gift from God, a beautiful, perfectly made package for me to show me that life is beautiful and kind and can be full of joy. Being a mother has made me want to recover so that I can be there for him emotionally and physically, and actually be there, be entirely present, as my own mother was for me. I want to show my family that I love them more than Ed. I will recover because when I look in Cade’s big blue eyes, framed by the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a boy, or when I look at his one perfect dimple on his left cheek, I see that life doesn’t have to be so complicated, or so wrought with panic and chaos and pain. It can be simple, it can be sweet. My little boy has showed me that.

And I thank God for him every single day.