I’m taking in this quiet moment of my little love sleeping peacefully in my arms after simultaneously filling his belly and diaper. I’m becoming increasingly accustomed to the concept of simply being and must give credit to my son, my excellent teacher.
I’ve decided against waking him to take him to the changing table or laying him down, even though a pile of laundry is beckoning and my cappuccino is just out of reach. As I sit with him in our dimly-lit living room on this cold, grey, winter day, my heart is warmed by the warmth of his soft skin.
Yesterday, I woke before Ellis did for the first time since I can remember. I watched him breathe deeply in the quiet morning light as my own heart swelled with his infectious peace. His simple, carefree state of being reminds me each day anew that we weren’t born with responsibilities.
We were born to firstly be; it isn’t until later in life that we learn to do.
My son is truly my role-model in this: he is, and he is who he is. It’s all he knows to be. He doesn’t know how to “fake it till you make it.” He has no idea that insincerity even exists. He couldn’t show anything but his true feelings even if he tried, and he’s oblivious to the fact that there would be any reason to hold them back.
I can be certain that his face lit up in joy isn’t just “doing me a favor.” Just the same, I can’t convince him to smile at someone else to be polite. When he cries, there’s always something wrong, even if I’m not able to figure out what before he’s gurgling again.
He’s the most honest person I know, and I couldn’t be more grateful to learn and grow each day as he does, too.
He’s made “Mommy” my favorite thing to be.
And so I shall be.