It’s amazing how much you saw in me and how little I believed in it.

I remember us lazily lying in bed, tangled up in covers, and you cradled my arm in your outstretched hand.  “Look at how beautiful that is,” you sighed.  I thought you were mocking me, all pasty-white and curved against your tan, chisled physique.  I assumed that, naturally, there was nothing beautiful there. 

You were leaps and bounds more talented than I was, and yet you always came to my shows, clapped hardest for me when I bowed.  A healthy competition always existed between us, keeping us motivated.  Whenever you lauded my performance, I naturally assumed you were being sarcastic, since you knew I wasn’t half the performer you were. 

Remember when you would wink at me across the room?  I always assumed it was meant for someone else.

Remember when we would talk on the phone until sunrise?  I always assumed it was because you had nothing better to do.

Remember when you told me I was most beautiful when I was four months pregnant?  I assumed you were speaking out of pity.

The passing storm yesterday filled the air with the same humid summer fog that always reminds me of you, always makes me feel eighteen again, and it left me filled with regrets that I had not enjoyed myself as fully as I could’ve.  Years, wasted, because I refused to believe you could ever find me worthy of you.

Make no mistake; I would not change where I am for anything in the world.  I have no doubt that we would never have made it far.  But I wanted you to know that it is my deepest mission in life to believe what you saw, and live as the woman you thought I was.

My child is now portable.

I mean, to some extent, he always was.  But this weekend, he became EASILY portable. 

Even when the Binja first joined us, he was a big baby.  He was 8.5 lbs the day he was born, and the weight just accumulated from there.  Add that to a 9 lb carrier, and we’re talking a serious strength training session to go anywhere. 

A few weeks ago, when our tax stimulus came through, I implored Bryan to save my aching back and buy a carseat.  A real, big-baby carseat, one that’s never meant to leave the car.  That way, we could keep the travel system carrier in my car, Bryan had one in his car, and all we’d have to carry is the now 17 lb baby.

That didn’t really help when we needed a stroller, though, since our big stroller is close to 15 lbs, and a pain to move in and out of our various automobiles.  I had been trying to figure out a way around that when I remembered..

.. oh, yeah, Aunt Jessica bought an umbrella stroller for us.

We had kept it packed away until the child was old enough to sit up on his own, and guess what?  That time is now.  So we took TONS of walks this weekend, just me and him:

It was so fabulous, to have him ready to stroll at a moment’s notice.  I LOVE BEING OUTSIDE, so I figured he must too.  HE WILL LOVE IT.  Or we’re taking his ass back.

(Actually, he does love it.  He talks to the trees and everything.)

Then, I needed to go grocery shopping.  There is NOTHING more backbreaking than trying to hoist a baby seat with ginormous baby onto a shopping cart, except maybe hippo tossing.  I decided that we were gonna bite the bullet and buy a shopping cart carrier and pray that he could sit up long enough for me to zip up and down the aisles.  And what do you know?

He was a perfect angel. (Versus the rest of the weekend, where he was cranky and volatile.)

While I was rejoicing in our newfound freedoms, I was also mourning the demise of my dependent baby.  It’s so very cool to watch him grow and learn and catch on, but there are so many times that we cuddle in the morning and I kiss his chubby baby cheeks and I pray he never gets any bigger than this. 

In other news, we tried real vegetables this weekend.  And he’s like his mom when it comes to food:

He likes it.  A lot.