The 26-pound baby took four steps today!
You don't understand...It seems like a lifetime that I've been waiting for Mr. I'm-15-Months-Old-But-I'll-Be-Damned-If-I'm-Going-To-Walk to start strutting his stuff. I was starting to have visions of visiting college campuses, basking in the glow of a young man's promising future, looking at my son as a man for the first time...all with him resting comfortably on my hip.
My daughter took a while to walk too so it really wasn't a big deal when he hit the one-year mark and showed no signs of wanting to join us in the upright world. Then one month, two months and three months went by. He just kept gaining weight and showed no signs of even wanting to stand. I started to worry.
Now, when I say, "I started to worry," it's not what you think. I knew the boy was and is fine. I started to worry about ME. How am I supposed to make it through all this (by this, I mean those early years of motherhood when it's about physical labor as much as mental and emotional know-how), if my back is in shambles from lugging around a toddler that refuses to toddle?
There were days I literally wheeled him from the house to the car because I couldn't take the exhaustion of carrying his long, heavy, squirmy body. It's about 15 paces from my front door to his car seat. Then, there were days I just let him crawl on...whatever...sidewalk, dirt, grass, wood chips on the playground (no splinters, thank God). It was like playing Pong on Atari. Crawl up. Block. Crawl down and across. Block. Crawl straight. Block. Crawl backwards. Block.
So, today, the gods have smiled down upon me and things are looking up. I think I'll even have Marley walk on my back before bed...