Roots

I tend to dream about things that I need to do. Which is annoying because there are some mornings that I wake up feeling like all I did all night was make a mental to-do list. Last night, I thought that it was kind of sad that this blog had taken a turn for Weightlossdom. When I really started it to talk about all things Mommy. So back to my roots I go.

As I type this, Plaza Sesamo plays in the background while Ryan and Paul play. I think Ryan is dangerously close to saying "hi". He has a walker (yes, bad mommy, I know) that says "hi! hi! hi!" when it's turned on. I swear I've heard something close to "hi" a couple of times. Yesterday, we went to visit our good friends, Jonathan, Kelli, and their baby, Aiden. Aiden is only 3 weeks younger than Ryan, and it's so fun to watch the boys interact. Or, try to force them to play together. Both seem disinterested in each other. I wonder when babies start to play with other babies. Ryan doesn't go to daycare and I'm worried about his social skills, as he isn't around other kids very often at all. I think Kelli and I both want to have well adjusted kids and are going to try to get together more often.

Today's Sunday. It's cold and wet outside and I'm sitting here sipping my coffee while Ryan wanders around the house. I can't keep up with that kid. His dad is in charge right now. As thrilled as I am that he's growing and learning and moving, I do kind of miss the days when I could put him around and turn around for 2 seconds without him moving.

He's 8.5 months old tomorrow. I can't believe how fast the time has passed. When he was a newborn and I was in a haze of postpartum baby blues (seriously, it was bad), I remember Paul telling me that it would get easier when we stopped measuring Ryan's life in days. And then it turned into weeks. And here we are, 8.5 months later and we're dangerously close to measuring his life in years. He can crawl like a madman, pull himself to standing on just about any stationery object, sit himself back down (finally!), and cruise around furniture at a too-dangerous-for mommy-to-look speed. He also is getting to be a pro at putting himself to sleep without our help. I snap pictures of him at every opportunity. I don't want to forget.

Well, Ryan's crawled around the corner for the 10th time looking for me. Note to self: When purchasing our next home, don't buy a house with an open floor plan. Doors. Lots of doors.