He's a Big Kid Now

This whole Connor-in-a-big-boy-car-seat-and-stroller thing has forced me to reevaluate my perspective on things.  Basically, I need to loosen my control-freak grip, especially things that I can't control.  Which is a lot of things.  Most things, really.  Why am I getting anxious about the fact that my kid is growing, healthy, and is ready to step up to all of those 6-month old changes?  Getting older and changing is an inevitable part of being human and something that we all deal with (hello, turning 30 last year), so again, why am I stressing?  Because I can't just tote him around in a car seat while he sleeps blissfully and I browse the aisles at Target.  Because he will need to be entertained in the car instead of cocooned in his little bunting-ed alcove.  Because I need to do more stuff with him when we're out in public.  I've had it easy so far.

Notice how his pant legs are all too short?  Yeah, it might be time to stop cramming him into clothes made for 3-month olds

When we're all together and he's riding in his big-kid car seat or in his forward-facing stroller, I love it.  I feel like a kid out for a joyride.  It's all so new and exciting and unpredictable.  But when I'm at work, thinking about the situation that I so love makes me anxious and those old feelings of uncertainty and "can I do this?" come floating back, blocking all my other mental pathways.  Whenever speaking to someone, I cautiously pray that they don't ask me about how Connor is doing, lest the torrent of conflicted mothering thoughts spill out of my mouth.  At the same time, I want people to ask about how he's doing so I can gush about how big and awesome he is because I think about it all day long.  Conflicted.  That's the theme of my life these days.

I can only imagine how 'Rad feels these days now that he's facing the world instead of being shielded from it.  We took him for a ride in his new stroller for the first time yesterday, and by the swinging of his feet and his quietly observant face, I think he liked it.  It's funny how much love I wanted to pour out onto that baby by just seeing his little feet swing back and forth.  Only people can get that kind of love - you just don't give that kinda sugar out to things (although I lurve the new camera that took these pictures).

Since attaining 6-monthness, Z and I have been talking a lot about 'Rad-a-dude's consumption.  Someday soon we'll stop talking about cutting up pieces of avocado or banana and we'll actually do it.  We'll slice those fruits up, put them on his high-chair tray, and see what transpires.  We'll put his formula in a sippy cup and see how he handles it without the fear of pissing him off in the morning or just before bed.  We'll really test fate and see if he likes prunes (and if they like him back).  If it weren't for the 8:00-4:30 gigs that we have, these events wouldn't need to relegated to the weekend.  No, to next weekend.  No no, we'll do it the weekend after, definitely then.

He gnoshed on a banana for a minute but he wasn't thrilled about it

I was so optimistic when 'Rad was 7-weeks old that I'd soon learn what kind of mother I was, that I would rebuild my identity quickly and with stronger bricks and mortar.  Six-months into it, I think the process is going to be much longer that I initially scheduled it for.  I'm not only learning what kind of mother I am, I'm learning what kind of mother I want to be (or not be), and I'm learning what a long journey it can be to get from one point to the other.  I'm not going to time this process anymore.  I'm just going to try to let it happen.  I'm going to try to pull back and take the big-picture view a little bit more.  I'm going to try to be less of a bitch at home and more of one out in public (I'm usually a total pushover).  All for my child's sake, of course.  I've said this all before - the worst-kept promises are those that I make to myself - but this is my mission.  Wanna join?