Let me start by saying that I’m pretty emotional tonight.  Lucas sits by himself in the bathtub, plays with toys, and then quietly sits on my lap with his bottle while I read him his bedtime story.

Hold up.

When did my sweet newborn, who kept me up all hours, turn into this little boy holding his bottle and quietly looking at the pictures in the Finding Nemo story that I’m reading?  And then he just quietly put himself to sleep in his crib without even so much as a peep?  And odds are that he’s not going to make a peep now until about 7am.  Am I really the one who taught him this?  I don’t even know how I did that.  If I charged everyone a dollar who told me that he was “such a good baby” then we would already have college set.  But how did he learn that?  And what happened to my newborn in the hospital who didn’t know how to nurse so we had to bottle feed?

What I wouldn’t give to Tivo the moments so that I can relive taking him home from the hospital, laugh at how slow Angel drove, and how neither of us said a word because we were so scared for the unknown

His first diaper blow out resulting in his first bath at home

His first intentional smile at me while I was strolling through Kohls looking for pants without an elastic waist

And all of the cuddles that got us from one milestone to the next

Where did all of that go?

To you everything’s funny, you’ve got nothing to regret
I’d give all I have, honey
If you could stay like that

-Taylor Swift

I still remember that first night how I couldn’t get myself in and out of bed so I kept asking Angel to go check that he was still breathing in his Pack n Play right next to me.  He woke us up every 4 hours and we were so tired but just handed him back and forth to cuddle with on the couch all day long.  Now we have baby gates to keep him from crawling all over the house while I’m in the bathroom yelling “Mommy just wants to pee alone!”

I’m drowning in laundry, dirty bottles, and baby toys.  If the dishwasher isn’t running, the back of my mind won’t stop telling me to get up and load it.  And when the dryer is on, I cringe and the thought of having to put those sheets back because I feel like I JUST PUT THEM ON THE BED YESTERDAY.  If I had a bruise for every time his car seat has hit me in the shin getting him in and out of my car- oh wait, I do.  He screams when he sees me leave the room, he pulls my hair while he crawls all over me if I lay on the floor, and he tries to roll off of the table every time that I change his diaper- which feels like every hour on the hour for the rest of my life.

But then night time comes and he splashes and squeals in the bath, quietly drinks his bottle while laying in my lap, and he looks at me with those big eyes like he doesn’t know how to feel anything except safe and happy.

I cherish the moments: The good, the bad, and the ugly.  But I feel like they are going so quickly and I can’t find the pause button on my remote.