Feast Your Eyes Friday

It's not ridiculous for me to want these, but it's ridiculous for me to try to figure out how to actually buy a pair of such expensive, awesome sunglasses:

I first saw these in Rome, where I wanted them immediately.  However, it was at the moment that I first saw their price tag that I knew I wouldn't have them.  Some people may get the full $200-worth out of these sunglasses, but not me.  They will inevitably get forgotten on the table in the food court, dropped, sat on, or otherwise disappear because I just won't take good enough care of them.  That's a scary thought, considering that I have a kid who is on the verge of mobility.

I tried to practice letting 'Rad "get hurt" yesterday.  It was a trial run for both of us.  I helped him grasp onto one of the bars supporting his exer-saucer while his other mitt played with the barrel of beads on the front of it.  Then I let go.  And I sat less than a foot behind him.  And I let him fall when his legs gave out.  It was a gentle tumble, one where he turned towards me each time and I cradled his head as it landed in my lap.  I definitely could have been a little tougher on him, but I not only want him to get used to the sensation of falling, I wanted to get myself used to seeing him in that trajectory without freaking out.  Ok, full disclosure: It was a full practice for me to not squeal and overreact when 'Rad falls.  I don't think Connor needed any "practice" falling.  He seems to be doing it just fine without my help.

I think this is when we start coming upon the "hard part" of parenting.  Not that being a new mom has been a cake walk up until now, but this is the situation: when I picked Connor up yesterday, Amy said he had been clingy and needy most of the afternoon.  When I brought him home, sure enough, I would put him down and almost immediately her him whining and crying, twisting to position himself as close to me as possible.  I couldn't decide if I should pick him up whenever he whined for it or if I should distract him with a toy or some other shiny, noisy object so I could sneak away and quickly put the dishes away or at least go to the bathroom.  I had been at work all day and wanted to spend time with him, but I also didn't want him to get in the habit of me holding him all the time at his littlest whimper.  So what did I do?  I spend the night tormented, distracting him with a toy and letting him play on his own for 5 or so minutes before feeling guilty and picking him up.  After a few more minutes in my lap, I would feel guilty about raising a mama's boy and put him in his exer-saucer to play on his own.  It was ridiculous.  I'm ridiculous.  If I'm not careful, Connor will learn nothing from me but ambivalence.

Unbeknownst to him, Blue was a big help last night, distracting Connor, making him laugh, and since he's a dog, just being a general relaxing force.  And I think they created a new art form - baby-dog yoga (who am I kidding, there's probably already a calendar or $50/session class for stuff like this):

Tonight was good.  It's always helpful to have the night to reset since I have a habit when I'm awake of carrying all of my regrets and "should have's" with me and being exhausted by the end of the day.  Weekends are even better for resetting.  Have a great one!