It’s Labor Day weekend and Mike, Colt and I are visiting friends at their campsite a few miles north of home.
Colt is sitting on a beach blanket, Boppy Pillow and toys strewn about. He’s flicking beads on his bead maze ball, or chewing on a stuffed Grover foot. Occasionally, he picks up a chain of plastic, multi colored links and puts them in his mouth excitedly. He babbles, squeals, sighs, grunts, and makes an array of faces. And yells.
The adults are all sitting around in folding chairs having a few different conversations amongst themselves. People walk around him, or seemingly don’t notice him, with exception of the occasional laugh at the excited little one. And that’s when someone realizes, Colt has contentedly been playing independently for a few hours.
“Is he always this good?”
I love it. I adore that he can play independently. I love that for the most part, he’s generally happy. I even feel guilty about it some days. And gleaming proud about it other days.
I was remembering back to those early first days at home with Colt. There’s a picture of his cute little face on Instagram, with a caption that reads, “This is the face of a newborn that has epic meltdowns at night, and is then comatose the next day.” I was so worried about having a fussy baby.
I think I’d even posted on either here or Facebook, about how much I was fearing that these laid-back parents would have a fussy kid. If anything, I think I must have wished to hard, because if anyone is fussy, it’s me. I have my moments where I’m frustrated at the routine; home from daycare, unpack the dirty dishes and the pumping supplies, put the milk away, feed Colt, pump again, clean the dishes, make dinner, pack bags for the next day, and don’t forget to set the coffee pot. And I get frustrated when I feel I have to ask for help.
And I try to remember that when he wakes up at night, he needs something. Whether it’s a full bottle, a snack, a diaper change, or even to just know we’re still here. But it’s easy to start wondering if you’re doing it right. And it’s easy to get into your head.
Yeah, actually, he’s a pretty happy kid! I couldn’t ask for a better baby.