I never expected to be a Mom at this age. My goal was to start trying at 25, which for me will be this coming February. My mother didn’t have me, her first born, until she was 28.
My little Dude was a huge surprise. He made me a Mom at 22 years old. I couldn’t have asked for a better child. Now, in a blink of an eye, he’s almost 2.
This weekend was pure, literal, hell on all of us. 50 degrees Celsius with the humidity, or 122 degrees Fahrenheit.
We do not have air conditioning. Our pool was warm from not cooling down at night. The hose was running warm water.
We were all miserable and couldn’t cool down to save our lives.
Yet we made it, some with heat rashes and others having some bodily side affects from the heat; regardless, no trips to emerge were needed thankfully.
As I write this, it’s 26 degrees (32 with the humidity [89.6 Fahrenheit]) and there is a beautiful northwest breeze providing relief.
We’ve had a successful day on the behavioural front with my son, who is having a wonderful day playing before the work week commences and he returns to daycare for the week.
Throughout the day, one thing has passed through my mind many times: I am so grateful to have this child. (Yes, that’s a plastic water bottle we needed the extra water over the weekend.)
He’s so genuinely happy. It makes me slow down to try and enjoy the little things along side him.
He sleeps so well unless there is something physically preventing him like illness, growing, or teething. We’ve never really had an issue on this front.
His love for food is intense. Every meal is taken with appreciation. Rarely does he turn his nose up at food. This is huge for me. I was a horrible picky eater and in some ways I still am. His father is still a picky eater and it drives me nuts.
I know I am bragging, I’m sorry if it offends those who may have trouble raising their toddlers in any of these departments.
For a child that I didn’t know I wanted, he continues to show me how much love a human heart can hold. The answer: it’s unlimited.