I love Rylan. In the last 15 months, I have become more child-like and more mature somehow. Kids do that to you and I love it love it love it. Like, take Rylan's bristle blocks, I have successfully created every block-character that comes in the flyer inside the toy's box. Rylan could care less, he takes me creations and rips them apart. I built his Little People Farm into an awesome farm, took a picture and sent it to Rob one day at work. We dance to annoying songs, we chase each other around the house, and I talk to him in the car to the point that people passing me probably think I'm psychotic.
At the same time, I've somehow grown up a lot in the last year and some change. Like when I had the stomach flu and was still breastfeeding. Usually when you are sick, especially with the pukies, you find a cool spot on your bathroom floor and you pass out there for a few days. If not eating for a few days felt good, that was allowed. But, I had to take care of Rylan, and somehow choke down some food so that I could still breastfeed. It was at that moment that I learned that moms don't get sick days.
I am also notoriously late. My poor mother had to use every punishment in the book to get my adolescent b-u-t-t in the car on time to get to school. I've been late to college classes, late to work. Late, late, late. A few weeks ago Rylan and I were so early for a birthday dinner, we had to wait for the birthday girl (who is ALWAYS early) for over 10 minutes. Rob and I have started leaving for church extra early to get the coveted pew directly in front of the cry room (so he has about 10 kids to stare at during church).
I'm very thankful to that little/big sack of cute stuff for making me discover my inner kid and inner adult all in a year's time.
Precious angel won't stay out the dog food/water bowls. Yay.