Ways you know your little baby is turning into a big boy:
1. He has grass stains and holes in his jeans.
2. He says "boobie" in reference to nursing. Oh no!
3. His size 7 sandals that we bought two weeks ago already almost don't fit.
4. He has hair growing on his legs.
5. He can tell you with words when he is hurt, tired, hungry and thirsty. FINALLY!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
LOVE
I remember the day Angel received the call. He was offered the job at Cargill. I remember it because it was like three out of the four chambers of my heart rejoiced at the thought of not being home alone with a seven month old insomniac four days a week. And the fourth chamber? The fourth chamber went straight to the question, "Who will take care of Ignacio?" As I paused in silence the answer came swiftly, "Someone who loves him."
As I sat in my office, my feet propped up on the desk after pumping between sessions, I chatted with my sister on the phone. What was I going to do? Would I stay home? What about daycare? By then end of the ten minute conversation an agreement between sisters was made. She would watch him. Why? Because she loves Ignacio. My heart smiled; all four chambers.
I also remember the first day I dropped him off. Krista had already designed a blog, soon to be the envy of fellow working moms at my office, so I could check-in from work. The play room was set up and Addison was small but waiting. As I set the milk I had so diligently pumped for the day in the refrigerator, I took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. As I kissed Ignacio on the top of his head as I said goodbye I felt the sadness well deep in my chest, making its way quickly to release in the form of tears from my eyes. As I looked up at Krista she didn't try to make it better or change the script that was written in my heart. She let the moment be, with tears in her eyes too.
And so the journey began. There was the routine stuff, like pulling up the driveway of the house with Ignacio's hands flailing in the backseat with excitement, eating breakfast with Addison as Ignacio got all the music toys going at the same time, my eyes on the clock so I wouldn't be late for work, and finding a face of exhaustion after all the fun he'd had at the end of the day. And there was the not-so-routine stuff, like the first time Ignacio said "auntie" and watching Addison and Ignacio learn to dance together, give each other "besitos" and learn to share and not swat.
As I scurried between sessions at work I never once worried about Ignacio. I always knew that he was safe, cherished, seen and heard. I knew this because the person taking care of him loved him. She had a relationship with him and, more importantly, has one of the strongest relationships in the world with me.
And so the journey ends this week, almost one year later. Many things have changed. Ignacio now picks his toys to bring to Auntie's and walks himself to door. His lunches come in Ziplock bags, Tupperware and an adult lunch bag. There have been days I haven't been able to get out Krista's house fast enough, eager for the 25 minutes of solace as I drove to work by myself, and days that I have struggled to leave, even after months of dropping him off.
As I sat in my office, my feet propped up on the desk after pumping between sessions, I chatted with my sister on the phone. What was I going to do? Would I stay home? What about daycare? By then end of the ten minute conversation an agreement between sisters was made. She would watch him. Why? Because she loves Ignacio. My heart smiled; all four chambers.
I also remember the first day I dropped him off. Krista had already designed a blog, soon to be the envy of fellow working moms at my office, so I could check-in from work. The play room was set up and Addison was small but waiting. As I set the milk I had so diligently pumped for the day in the refrigerator, I took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. As I kissed Ignacio on the top of his head as I said goodbye I felt the sadness well deep in my chest, making its way quickly to release in the form of tears from my eyes. As I looked up at Krista she didn't try to make it better or change the script that was written in my heart. She let the moment be, with tears in her eyes too.
And so the journey began. There was the routine stuff, like pulling up the driveway of the house with Ignacio's hands flailing in the backseat with excitement, eating breakfast with Addison as Ignacio got all the music toys going at the same time, my eyes on the clock so I wouldn't be late for work, and finding a face of exhaustion after all the fun he'd had at the end of the day. And there was the not-so-routine stuff, like the first time Ignacio said "auntie" and watching Addison and Ignacio learn to dance together, give each other "besitos" and learn to share and not swat.
As I scurried between sessions at work I never once worried about Ignacio. I always knew that he was safe, cherished, seen and heard. I knew this because the person taking care of him loved him. She had a relationship with him and, more importantly, has one of the strongest relationships in the world with me.
And so the journey ends this week, almost one year later. Many things have changed. Ignacio now picks his toys to bring to Auntie's and walks himself to door. His lunches come in Ziplock bags, Tupperware and an adult lunch bag. There have been days I haven't been able to get out Krista's house fast enough, eager for the 25 minutes of solace as I drove to work by myself, and days that I have struggled to leave, even after months of dropping him off.
But one thing has not changed...love. I am forever grateful to Krista and Addison for sharing their days with Ignacio along with their patience, wisdom and kindness. You have both helped to raise my baby boy and for that there are no other words but, from the bottom of all four chambers of my heart, "I love you."
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