My time with Alex has felt exceptionally good lately. I've stopped taking him to activities the last week or so, I just haven't had the energy it requires to keep up with him in a public place, so I've opted to keep him home. We've been doing a lot of movie watching (Lilo and Stitch is his new favorite), playing in the backyard and jumping on the bed.
I've let go of my worry that I'm being a crappy SAHM and have reasoned that we're both a lot happier if I'm not stressed out. So what if he watches too much TV for two weeks of his life? Who cares if he wears nothing but a pull up and a dirty t-shirt during that time? He's fed (though, I have to admit, maybe we're eating too many chocolate doughnuts), he's healthy and frankly, we're getting along fabulously these days.
I'm much more relaxed with him than I had been and we're doing a lot of cuddling and telling stories and having tickle wars. THIS is how I want to spend my last days of one on one time with my first son. It doesn't matter that we're not learning about the Cretaceous period at the dinosaur museum, or learning how to milk a cow at the farm or finding out how many people weigh as much as a bull elephant at the zoo. Sure the bush mazes at the children's gardens are fun, but only if you can keep up with your two year old in them and trust me, it's not fun to spend the next 20 minutes freaking out because he ran off ahead of you and now you're both lost. We're making much better memories of this last bit of time as just the two of us spraying each other with a garden hose in the back yard and my helping him perfect the "Ayex Supah Dive" which involves nothing more than me laying on the bed and him leaping over me and finishing with a somersault right off the end landing on his butt on the pile of blankets on the floor.
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