Bryce

Speechless. That is what this little beast... I meant angel, makes me. Speechless. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry. He makes me doubt the decision to become a parent because he is difficult to parent. He tests me and NEEDS me all the time. He sticks to me like glue and wants to play with me all the time. I love him to pieces. I even love him in the middle of the night when he wants to sleep in my bed. I love him when he has said "mom" for the 50th time in 20 miles (not kidding - I counted). I love him when he wants to help in the kitchen and help with laundry or help feeding the dogs. He is actually helpful quite often but we all know the help of a child makes whatever task you are doing last three times as long. Oh well, I try to take a deep breath and smile and enjoy the time with him. Sometimes I do a really good job and sometimes I fail... miserably. As I have been trying to write this he is standing next to me playing his Leapster. And, by "right next" I mean he has to be touching me. When I type my arm bumps his arm and he gives me the stink eye because I ruined his game. This is how close we are. He is so different than Cayden who could play for hours by himself. Cayden had such an independent imagination. Bryce needs someone to interact with him ALL THE TIME. It is tiring and I try to think about it in a positive light. I try and I try and sometimes I have patience (can you see the halo above my head?) and sometimes I have been known to tell my own child to stop talking to me. I know, I know. It is awful. But, c'mon people, if you were in a car with him for hours and he says, "Mom what if" a million times you would be tempted to turn up the music a little louder and a little louder and toss pretzels in the backseat. Not that I have ever done that :)

I have no idea what his future will hold. I do know that he watches every move I make and I will be his role model. I hear my words and my tone come out of his mouth and I think "great" or "uh oh". And, just so you know, just because he loves me like crazy does not mean he always listens to me. Just this morning he colored on the table with crayons while he was writing his Christmas thank you notes. What kind of paradox is that? Then, I send him to his room and before he goes he wants me to hug him. He walks slowly down the hall to his bedroom while telling me that I am "mean". I cannot make this stuff up. How many hours until bedtime?