Lightbulb

Having a toddler is crazy. Pure craziness. Every day is a different day, and despite what all these parenting experts recommend, the day IS run by the child. Not that MB is making big decisions, but if he's cranky, or tired or argumentative, it sure does alter my plans. I'd rather not be running errands with a cranky kid, thanks.
     The last few weeks, though, have really blown my mind. He is learning so fast that I can't keep up, practically. He's truly a sponge. Speaking in understandable sentences, telling us what he wants, expressing emotions (sad, mad), jumping off things, picking on the dog. Suddenly, he's a kid. Not a baby, moving out of the "toddler" age, into full blown, energetic, regular kid. It's really amazing to watch. It's like his little inner light bulb came on, and each day it gets brighter and brighter.
     By evening he is exhausted from all he's taking in. He gets irritable and bratty, then, thankfully, goes to sleep. The next day, we do it all again, and he learns even more. And lets not even talk about how fast he's outgrown his pants.

The other side

So, now I'm on the other side. My Dad, my longtime hero, died peacefully and comfortably on March 31.
     My days have kind of passed in a blur. MB and I spent the last few weeks staying with my Mom, being noise in the house for her. Distracting her when we could, supporting her when we couldn't, and just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to find our balance after losing an important level of our foundation.
     I'm home, now, re establishing a comfortable life pattern for MB, doing the things I know I should be doing. Finding laughter and enjoyment in life. But Dad is never far from my mind or my heart.
He would not expect, nor want anyone to wallow in grief. To stagnate. He'd kick our butts for even thinking that was an option. I do my best to focus on what he would consider the most important; my young son. And my family, but, really? Especially my son. My Dad was a champion of children, and providing comfort, love and stability for them. Without sounding like a corny song, they are the future.
     Onward, then, I go. I cry when I need to, laugh when I can, and love, always. I'm off work for another few weeks, and I need that time to get myself  more steady, to find yet another, new normal.