Looking Up

All this week, Little Bear and I have had great mornings. He's happy, we play together, I get stuff done or run errands or whatnot, everything goes really well. Then he takes a nap, and I get more stuff done. But at some point in the afternoon, because we are both human, and he's only 15 months old, something happens that makes him sad and he becomes fussy and clingy. And instead of focusing on all of the positive things that have happened, I let his fussing drag me down too; by the time Matt gets home from a long day at work he has a grumpy wife who "had a terrible day." But I didn't, really, I'm just letting the last hour or two's frustration shape my attitude toward everything else.

Well, it's not going to happen today, because I'm going to do my best to start reversing that trend. Why should I choose to be unhappy? We're going to focus on everything that's going right, instead.

So far today, Little Bear woke up full of giggles at 7:00, tickling me until I admitted that I was awake. Matt was wonderful and brought him out to the kitchen while he packed up his lunch so that I could get dressed and fix my hair; he even got Little Bear into his coat and boots so I just had to run out and slip into my own gear. After dropping Matt off, we ran to the store for some hardware and donuts for Matt's office, and Little Bear held my hand and proudly clomped down the hallway in his big boots as we carried the box up to the video conferencing office. He played shy when I opened the door, refusing to go in and see Daddy, but he laughed and chattered all the way home about our visit: "Dada Dada Dada bye bye Dada bye bye bye!"

He was also telling me about the "problem" with his boots, but since the problem was that he was wearing boots in the car, there wasn't much I could do for him. "Your boots? Mmhm, I know. Here, should we listen to the radio?" We live in Alaska, kid. You have to wear boots. Since Mama wasn't helping, he started telling his boots about it instead.

It's so much fun to watch and listen to him interacting with inanimate objects as his imagination develops! Last night it was the calzone dough: He saw me measuring flour, and came running. "Bread? Bread?" We sat on the floor to knead the dough in the bowl together, him poking it gingerly, flapping his hand to shake off the bits that stuck to his fingers, while I punched and folded. When I tried to set it up on the counter to rise, he protested loudly, so I brought the towel down to cover the bowl on the floor instead. "It has to hide, okay? So it can get big."

He lifted the edge of the towel to peek underneath, then looked back up at me, a huge grin splitting his face. "Bread! Peek! Bread!" He pulled the towel away with a flourish. "Bread, Mama! Ididit!" 

(Yes, "I did it" is all one word, used whenever he's proud of something.)

And he fussed, of course, when I had to drag him away from the hiding bread so it could get big, and I was grumpy by the time Daddy got home, but as they followed me back to the kitchen to start putting supper together Little Bear noticed the bowl on the floor and his eyes lit up. "Dada, Dada, bread!" He laughed and laughed as he kept "hiding" the dough from Daddy, then uncovering it again and shouting "Bread!" How could our days not be made better by preparing dinner to a soundtrack of our little boy's laughter? 

Maybe it takes longer to get things done if I let him help, but I have to remember that if he is happy and having fun, I'll be happier as well.