leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The update. My goodness it's been too long. I have been alternately too watched to type anything, and unable to decide what to write. I am wonderful. The brilliant boy in my life now says "dada", and "mama", and as of a few days ago - "cat". Actually he says "gat", but that's what he means. He has learned how to climb up his fathers legs unassisted so that he can stand on the couch and pull the blinds back to look out the window. He walks along anything he can hold on to, including empty walls which he palms like a mini-spiderman. He's still not ready to try a step on his own, but he eyeballs the edges of things trying to determine if he can reach them by stretching. - This always results in a fall, and a cry of protest, and him laughing because I'm laughing. He's funny. He's so funny. He puts things on his head and closes his eyes, because that means you can't see him. Then giggles loudly while you call his name and ask where he is. Speaking of giggling - the following things are hilarious in the world of Griffin: daddy mopping the floor, mommy peeing, whistling, joggers, mommy blowing on the back of his neck, sunglasses, and the list goes on and on. He loves being startled, so I spend hours crawling on the floor around the furniture to sneak up on him. He loves books. He'll sit for 30 minutes in a pile of his books picking one up after another and turning the pages. He loves strings. No I mean LOVES strings. Shoe strings, drawstrings, yarn. He'll sit for more than 30 minutes just pulling them to full length, then letting go, then pulling them again. The instant someone comes into my home, he crawls to their shoes and unties them. We've attempted to explain to him that it's impolite - unless of course he learns to retie them, but he ignores us. He'll be 11 months old on Monday. And I am overwhelmed by how fast it's all gone. It seems like yesterday that we brought him home and now he won't let me eat without begging for bites, and he unties shoes, and he says "cat". It's all more than I can believe. But sometimes when he's asleep and his little hands are by his head and his little head is scrunched down against his chest...he looks like he did when he was tiny and helpless and brand-new. And I still love to smell his hair, and hold him while he sleeps, and watch him breathe. And his daddy is wonderful. The troubles we'd been having reached a blow-up over Mother's Day weekend and I left. And it was apparently the wake-up call he needed. And he had his arguments with God and faced most of the bad spirits that lived in his memories and in his actions, and he CHOSE to be a better man. To be the good man that was always there, but got shoved out of the way a lot by the ghost of all his old hurts. I always used to tell him that: "You choose your life. Every second of every day you choose." Even in the middle of an argument you can stop that very second and choose to be kind and gentle and forgiving and loving. "You choose", I always told him. And finally he did. Lucky for all of us he made a good one. That's all for now. I hope everyone is good. Happy and loved and good. 10:52 a.m. - July 21, 2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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