We've Got a Roller on Our Hands

The honey moon is almost over.

David is rolling.

He's been rolling back to front for a couple of weeks now and I have no doubt that soon he'll be rolling around the house, getting stuck under furniture just like his siblings did.

It's gonna get all busy up in here!

And while I am rejoicing with him for all his big boy accomplishments, inside I am secretly heartbroken.

How can this baby boy o mine be nearly 5 months old?

How can he be rolling--starting on his journey to Independence?

How can I be happy about that?

Isn't that the way of motherhood?  Of parenting?

They want us to be happy for them when they are leaning to walk, riding away on their bike, going to camp, driving a car, leaving for college, or the army, getting married.

And we are.

But there is a little piece of us that just wants them to lay on their blanket and look up at us with adoration in their eyes.

Forever.

But, it's not going to happen.

This boy has business to attend to.

He has his Daddy's furrowed bro.
"How did I get off that blanket?  Am I really supposed to be laying on this floor?  Where is my mother and why isn't she doing something about this?  I guess this is what happens when you're the 4th kid."

He starts on his back, on the blanket (promise), in whatever room I happen to be in.
This time it was the kitchen.

Almost instantly, he kicks his legs up and rolls to his side.
It's like a reflex.
He can't stop.
I love to watch him.
It cracks me up

In a moment he's off the blanket, and yes, that's a monkey on his bum.

He'll stay on his tummy for a long time.
In his crib he does the inchworm crawl and moves all over the place.
But he can't get enough traction on our wood floor or linoleum.
I'm glad for that.
But he's trying.
After a while, he gets tired and he does some floor face plants.
It's all fun and games until he hits the floor too hard and then the good times are done.
And i'm just standing there taking pictures of it all while he starts to cry.

That's when it's good to have a cheering section.
And Davy has one.

His 3 biggest fans.
That little boy is so adored.

My heart aches with pure joy when I see them all together like this.
What a gift this little boy is to all of us.
Thank you God, for Davy.
Thank you so much.

If you read my last post, you'll know that I sometimes loose sight of  how precious these people are to me.
I can't see past that pile of laundry in the corner.  (see it?)
But what does laundry matter?
In the scope of eternity, what does laundry matter?
It doesn't.
What matters is them.
What matters is this.
What matters is Davy is rolling and we are all here to cheer him on.

We even gave him a party hat.
Life is short.
Celebrate the little stuff.
Get a party hat.

And love each other till it hurts.

Love from,

Greta