I should really go to bed right now (Mike’s out of town and I’ve started back at work. I’ve learned that it takes me 2 1/2 to 3 hrs between getting up and arriving at my desk, what with getting myself and the boy and all of our crap out the door and to the Metro and to daycare and then me to work. I’ve also learned that by the time I get to my desk after all of that, I’d really like to head home and take a nap) but I feel compelled to write this while the thought is still in my head.
Action Jackson is an awesome kid. Seriously. I mean, every parent thinks that – and should think that- about their kid. But in addition to Mike and me thinking that, we are constantly being told that by other people.
First off, he’s super cute. A “Gerber baby” as random strangers continue to tell me. As a new born, I looked like a small Winston Churchill in a dress. It was not pretty. We were expecting our own wrinkled pink ugly, face-only-a-mother-could-love type of baby and he came out kinda cute. All of the docs and nurses at the hospital kept saying ‘He’s really cute. Really. Wow, damn he’s cute.’ And so he was and so he continues to be. How did this happen? I have no idea, but I’m going with it.
Second, he’s super happy, mellow, and easy going. What?!?! This one really baffles me. Mike and I can be described as many things, but most people do NOT describe us mellow and easy going. How the fruit of our loins came out with the personality of a surfer dude smoking a bowl after the perfect day at the beach is beyond me. We don’t even like sand. But there he is, every morning, smiling and happy to see us. He likes riding in the car to daycare, he likes taking the metro to daycare. He likes daycare. He’s happy and smiley to be dropped off there, he’s happy and smiley to be picked up there. Once we came to an understanding with his day care provider that he needed more naps, well he started sleeping for an hour or more three times a day. No problem. They LOVE him there. I see other kids crying when they come, crying when they leave and crying in between. Not our boy- he’s all smiles. Today they tell me he figured out how to sit up by himself (with the help of two boppy pillows, but still) and hold the bottle by himself to feed himself. They also asked how long we’d been giving him cereal and I told them that we haven’t yet, why do you ask. (The doc just told us to start and I’m hoping to get out to buy some tomorrow.) “Oh” Carileen -his main provider at daycare- says, “well I was feeding another baby while Jackson was on my lap and every time I put the spoon out to the other baby he opened his mouth too. He started to cry when I left to go clean out the bowl. We figured you’d been feeding him cereal for awhile. I think you’d better get him some cereal right away.” Let me get this straight, he taught himself the concept of how to eat by watching other kids at daycare for 3 days? Who is this kid and where did he come from?
I know he’s Mike’s baby because I was there when he was conceived and I know he’s my baby because I was there when he came out. And yet, I still wonder how this is possible. Are we really so good to deserve such a blessing? I keep thinking that somewhere, somehow the soul of a Buddhist monk got switched with that of our intended baby and one day a booming voice is going to say ‘oops, sorry for the mix-up, here’s your real baby’ and we’re going to get some normal, impossible baby that looks like Winston Churchill after a bender and acts like Winston Churchill after a bender.
In the mean time, I’m going to thank my lucky stars every day that we got our incredible Action Jackson and I’m going to stay far away from anyone that looks like they have an ‘in’ with higher powers of any sort and might clue them in to the mix-up.
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