Has anyone else noticed that life is full of contrast? Like you might have the really high profile job, but it demands a whole lot of your time. Or you may have the committed marriage, but it requires a good deal of self-sacrifice and compromise. Or you may live in the greatest city in the world, but you have to do it in 500 square feet (here’s looking at you, NYC).
And here we come to Jameson at 15 months. He’s a constant reminder of the contrasts of life.
In the last two months, it’s been amazing to see how Jameson has gained a good deal of independence. He’s extremely curious, wanting to see how things work and touch everything he can. He often points at lights hanging from the ceiling and looks at me with eyes that wonder why I don’t just lift him up so he can touch them. Other current obsessions include, but are not limited to: running water (except when it’s bath time), dogs (which he calls “ruff ruffs”), the broom and vacuum (we’re going to nurture this interest), looking through his legs upside down (future yogi over here), and banging anything together that results in a loud noise.
As his parent, I love the idea of raising a brave boy who wants to do for himself and take on the world. But the flip side to this whole thing — the contrast — is that with the independence comes his knowledge that he has preferences and his tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants.
He can be impatient and demanding and then turn right around and be incredibly silly and entertaining — singing, dancing, and running in and out of the room for an epic game of peek-a-boo.When I tell him not to touch something and grab his hands, he’ll try to sidestep the reprimand by breaking into Ring Around the Rosie, swaying back and forth. I’m telling you, these kids are cute, and they know it. #StayWoke
He sleeps great at night, but fights his naps during the day.
People often ask me if he’s running, and I tell them, “Not just running, but running away from us.” If there’s an exit, Jameson is making his way toward it.
He’ll scream and say, “da da da da” 8,000 times a day, but then he’ll melt hearts with his barely understood “I love you’s” and “See you later’s!”
He’ll run circles around the coffee table but then motion for me to pick him up so he can lay his head on my chest — all for about 30 seconds before insisting that I let him down so can get back to the business of finding his next thing to get into.
On particularly long days, I say to myself, “I can’t wait to get this kid to bed.” And then this little 2′ 8″ person holds up a book, teeters over to me, and hums as if to say, “Read this to me?” And I’m left convincing myself to put him in his crib instead of making animal noises from The Very Busy Spider for the fifth time. Parenting is easily one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in life. And like other hard things, it’s also one of the most rewarding. It takes and gives so much at the same time. It empowers and humbles. It frustrates and awes. It strengthens and softens. It’s full of contrast.