I was trying to find a picture that seemed like a good choice for the Christmas cards that I want to get in the mail but have zero ambition to work on.
I didn’t find one that seems like a good choice this year. Instead I fell into a wormhole of looking at old pictures of the kiddo. He was such a delicious baby and it makes me all the more excited to see the little girl currently kicking me in the bladder.
I love those pictures of my little chunker boy but, man alive, does it stun me sometimes to think of how fast these early years go. I heard someone say once that the baby years are a time when the days are long but the months are short and that feels true. And in some ways that is such a blessing because the early years are so hard sometimes but I miss the baby he was even though I love the little boy he is becoming.
I think I’ve mentioned (about 1,000 times to Mr. Monkey alone) that this is the last baby we’re having so I feel like I want to soak up every ounce of babyness with this one, but I go into it knowing that it is a totally futile endeavour. Sigh.
On a totally unrelated note, I watched the Ironman World Championships on TV today. I continue to be totally unable to watch that without A) crying at some point and B) wondering what exactly it takes to do that and if I could ever have that mix of money, committment, time, drive, talent, etc.
I feel the answer to that last part feels a lot like “no” as far as I can see it right now.