Fuzzy, monkey-adorned blanket aside, my little Nug sleeps like a man…
You can’t tell me that isn’t the pose of a man back from the pub after a football game. Pure relaxation. So incredibly adorable.
The other thing my son does like a man that isn’t quite as cute is pass gas. Oh. My. God. He sounds like an echoing machine gun. I read tonight (yes, I am the mom that researches every little thing her son does) that the applause worthy gas passing is common in babies who breast feed. Well, my little whoopie cushion follows his genetic inclination of being an over-achiever and silences rooms into embarrassed silence with his man-like flatulence. Makes his daddy proud, makes his mom fear that the room thinks it is her since such a little thing shouldn’t be capable of such butt booms.
Pre-Nug, I often wondered what kind of mom I would be. I don’t think you can possibly know where your love will take you in any of its many forms until it takes you there, so I was surprised to see the person I have become. As made clear by the fact that I can’t blog about anything but my child, “ambitious upwardly mobile Hanako” has been replaced by, “breath wrong around my child and I will rearrange your world Hanako.” All the goals in my life are fueled by a different fire now… my baby boy. My happiness has been redefined, and nothing in life is the same. I appreciate my parents more now because of it– jeez, is it possible that for 28 years they loved me this much? Amazing.
Well, time to play with the fart machine! Apparently some parts of me are still the same 😉