I figured I better write an update for month 22 before it slips away! Man, the summer is flying by. Ben's language skills continue to astound me, and I feel like everyday he says something that leaves me wondering where he learned it. He started singing songs this month which is beyond adorable. He sings the entire ABC's by himself, and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star flawlessly. The first time he did it I couldn't believe it. It's not like he just mumbles along to a tune - each word is pronounced near perfectly. He's also started "reading," basically filling in the words of books we've read hundreds of times.
I had this journal where everyday you write a couple of lines about the highlights of that day. You do it everyday for 5 years, and can go back and see what you were doing on that day however many years ago. I loved that thing and faithfully wrote in it every night. Mundane things to anyone but me - the first time Ben did this or that. I took it to Tahoe with us and left it in the bedside table at the hotel. I realized immediately when we got home and called. and called. and called. and left messages for this person and that manager. No one knew anything about it. I have no idea why someone would want it, so I guess it got thrown away. I only had been writing in it for a few months, but those are memories I'll never get to read about again. I guess I'm just going to have to suck it up and get a new one.
The pushing is STILL and issue. I keep waiting for it to go away completely but I'm learning maybe I shouldn't hold my breath. He rarely hits me anymore, and when he does he usually apologized immediately and tries to give me a kiss. He definitely knows it's not ok, and really that's mostly what I want. With other kids though, it's like it doesn't register that he did anything wrong.
I've been thinking lately about how I'm happy in this role that I'm in, and how I can't think of doing anything other than embracing it. The thought of going back to work sometimes sounds alluring, but then I think about Ben. Who would raise him? Daycare? A nanny? No. That's my job. Every time I look at him I see time passing before my eyes. I only will have this day with him once. He will only be like this once. And I don't want my memories of these years to be hurried dinners and jam packed weekends. I want them to be lazy lunches, and reading stacks of books, and walks outside, and holding hands. I want to be the one to take care of him. I understand some people have no choice but to work, and I'm incredibly thankful that I'm not one of them.
