It's no secret that my baby fever is hotter than these summer temps in the south. We're trying to not start trying again right now, especially since we're moving later this year, but this little boy is making it very difficult.
He's my absolute favorite. I'm so proud of everything he does. I'm proud of how he hands me his empty sippy and smiles when I say "more please?". I'm proud of how he finds joy in just about everything. I'm proud that he likes to sit and read a Spongebob book while I admire from the couch, or how he, intently, watches Baby Einstein and I can see those wheels turnin'. I'm pretty much proud of him for his simple existence.
I am head over heels for this little boy, but he doesn't even fully grasp it. Do we ever? I mean, even as a mama now, I don't think there's any way my own madre can love me the way I love him, but I know she does. He doesn't even know he has a ton of people who love him for just being.
His uncles are wild about him. I know they wish they were closer so they can see him and so Jake can go out with the boys, but I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's never far from their minds.
I was thinking about my brothers while driving the other day. I was thinking how proud my mom must be of her kids. We have me (who's obviously awesome. can I get an "amen"?! ;-D) who married her high school sweetheart, graduated college and decided to have one amazing little boy. My first brother, Kevin, is 24 years old and working and figuring out what exactly he wants his life to be; mulling over careers in the Marines, or the Navy, dependent upon what suits his plans best. My middle brother, Patrick, kicked hiney and took names his first year of college in Minnesota. He was even a starter on his college's football team. Does everyone grasp what a HUGE deal that is to start as a freshman?! GIGUNDO! And, lastly, there's my fellow bookend, Colin, who is getting ready to start high school, playing the school sports he wants to play and maintaining a dang-near 4.0 GPA. I can't even fathom how proud my mom is. But, part of me thinks I can. I'm proud of Jake for just being him. I'm proud that he knows what's right and what's wrong. I'm proud that he adores fruits and veggies. I'm proud that he's an observer and is very aware of what's around him. He's not doing anything fancy, but he still makes me swell with pride. My head may pop right off my shoulders when he's bringing home the good grades, and finding his passions---sports or not, and showing his integrity.
He may never know how important he is to us, how important this family is to me and his daddy, but I hope that he can feel it. I hope that every time he searches for me, when I'm not in the same room as him, and always starts looking in the kitchen first, that that carries into adulthood and he recalls the good food and fun holidays and how good it feels to have family around, blood related or not. I hope his life is as happy as he's made ours.
Every day, on the way to the gym, I drive by a baseball field complex where there are about 10 different teams of T-ball players practicing and/or playing games. Seriously? THIS is a testament to my self-control: I saw this little boy walking back to his car with his mom in that tiny uniform and tiny cleats and tiny hat. I think I ovulated on the spot.