mine

I went outside last night to grab some toys off the porch and had a fleeting desire to stay there for a minute or a couple dozen ;) The neighborhood was veiled in a light blue film as the world around it prepared for evening: A man a few houses up was cutting down some weeds on his front lawn. Across the street, I could see the windows glowing in my neighbor's kitchen, where I imagined they were snacking on the Lay's potato chips and Coke they offer us every time we drop in for a visit. In my house, the air smelled like post-bath vanilla oatmeal lotion and grilled cheese sandwiches.

This week was a grab-bag of blessings and frustration. My 2-year-old has learned the word "mine", and with that has come the revelation for Ben and I that apparently, nothing in our house actually belongs to us. Amid all of these battles of supposed possession, he's resumed displaying affection that I figured was gone forever. Speaking of possession- His first year, he was all mine. I adored nursing him, cuddling with him, and videotaping endless minutes of him rolling around on the carpet with his toys. He'd often give Ben the blankest of gazes while knotting his small hand up in my hair, mooshing his soft face against my cheek and making happy noises. Once he started walking, though, he became Daddy's #1 fan. I was useful for occasional midnight snuggle sessions and soothing after a spill outside. But Daddy- Daddy is the source of everything fun, everything masculine, everything Mommy normally squeals caution at. This week, while I muttered on hands and knees as I scrubbed his crayon doodles off the walls, he'd come find me and wrap his arms around my neck. "Aw, Mama!" he'll say contentedly, scootching up onto my bent knee to get closer. At least for now, he's Mama's boy again, if only for a few days until it rains and he and Daddy go for a dip in some mud puddles.