Feral & Fearless

About a year ago, over coffee, screaming babies, and a running toddler… my best friend from high school laughed when telling me of a conversation she had with her husband. He asked “Is it just me, or is everyone else having fun? Are we doing this wrong?” and her reply was “Nobody is having fun, we are not doing this wrong. This is joyful, but not fun… the toddlers— they are having fun.” I feel that in my soul.

The first week of my sons life, when we were commuting home at night from BCH — I would sit in tears on the kitchen floor with the dog laying across my lap, and C would look at me and say “One day we will have the ordinary chaos that we are praying for, the kid will be screaming and the dog will be barking. We’ll be overwhelmed, and likely frustrated— but that is the end goal.”

I’ve been told that babies enter the world in the way they plan to live in it. Awesome, I definitely have time for a lifetime of whatever the F that insanity was. But now? We have a thriving little boy, no meds needed, routine follow ups — he’s doing great. Its hard to remember that the tiny baby who was covered in wires and screeching because his Little Einsteins Aquarium shut off (IYKYK), is now standing infront of me styling his hair with mac and cheese, trying to climb out of his high chair, demanding more “MUK” from the Tonie box. It feels like a lifetime ago — and I feel like a different person.

Watching Donnie Thornberry in the flesh tear apart my living room, often makes me question my own sanity. Boys are built different, one minute he’s sitting on the couch with his emotional support thermometer (don’t ask… couldn’t explain it if I tried) — the next he is in the kitchen standing in the dogs water bowl dropping batteries (from said thermometer) into the water saying “Uhhhh-ooooooh”, as if he did not orchestrate the entire scenario. But his little smile and how he takes my hand and drags me to what he needs — its pure magic. The little things really are the big things, and we so often miss them.

In moments of pure anarchy… C and I look at each other and smile, knowing exactly what the other one is thinking. “We prayed for this?” and we laugh because… yes we sure f***ing did, and trust me when I say it is everything we hoped for and more.

My perspective on raising a tiny tornado was shaped by his first 12 weeks of life. Some of the little things that I thought would matter… really don’t matter. I’ve given myself grace to let him figure out the world, I say “Trust your body” and “What’s your next move?” as he is standing on the ottoman, dangerously close to the edge. Lets be honest, I say those phrases a lot, because this kid is feral & fearless.