My husband and I are desperate for our son to have a sibling. My life wouldn't have been the same without my sister and my husband's wouldn't have been the same without his older brother and younger sister. We both believe it is so important for our son to have a brother or sister, someone to grow up with, to learn to share with, to fight with, to learn conflict resolution with, to love and share life with. Someone to share the burden of our inevitable aging and death. He needs a family member for life. Someone close to his age and who knows all the family secrets!
But, even if I never have another baby, at least I have my Max. He is my dream come true and I am blessed beyond words to have him. He is a miracle baby - my doctor didn't think I would really be able to get pregnant, even after surgery, because my endometriosis was so advanced. But, guess what? I did! And now I have my precious son, Max, who makes me smile, laugh, cry happy tears, cry frustrated tears, and count my blessings every day.
And, of course, I always have Richard Simmons to bring a smile to my face.
I love Richard Simmons. I wrote about him once before on my blog HERE. I have a lot of respect for the work he does. And he is so nonsensical and screwy sometimes that I can't help but be happy when I see him on TV. I tend to like the types of people who drive others crazy, like Richard Simmons and people who talk a lot.
Lucky for me, he was on Ellen yesterday, right in the middle of my down-in-the-dumps period. This was my son's first Simmons exposure and he was absolutely fascinated with him. I've never seen my son be still for such a long period of time. He was, dare I say it? enthralled with Richard Simmons.
So, I heart Richard Simmons who brought a smile to my face yesterday when I couldn't do it on my own.
Then, today, my other light in the darkness, Max, brought smiles and kept me busy, so I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself.
My son, God bless him, loves to throw his blankie over his head and walk around the house running into walls. He thinks it's hilarious and it freaks out our dogs. Remember that kid in the '80's movie, Parenthood, who walks around with a bucket on his head, running into walls? Yeah, that was my son this morning.
My son with his blanket on his head as he ran into this wall...
and this wall...
and this wall.
After his head had enough of a beating, I changed him into his paintin' clothes and let him finger paint for a while.
After a much needed bath, I let him play with his Play Clay. This was his first Play-doh-ish experience.
He takes my blues away. Just one laugh, one look of excitement on his face, one hug, and all the feeling sorry for myself is gone. How can I feel sorry for myself when I have Max?