Workaholic

My son is a workaholic. I watch him all day and he does not play, he works. His entire waking time is spent testing, tasting, and touching items and, increasingly, practicing movements and exercising his muscles. Unless he is asleep (or having a bowel movement) he is in constant motion. He wants whatever I’m holding, eating or reading. He wants to grab the dog. He wants to pull the computer cords. He wants to mash the remote control buttons. He will do whatever it takes to get to these things, and for him, it takes a lot! He can’t crawl yet and, while he can take a few wobbly steps while holding onto the crib railing, he isn’t anywhere near walking.
I am completely entertained just watching him. From a sit, he leans forward onto his arms, maneuvers his legs from under his body, frustratingly wiggles on his tummy (usually pushing himself backwards), pulls himself onto his knees and in the process leans to one side and suddenly is sitting up again. Back in the sitting position, he starts the process once again. He does this over and over.

In his crib he sits up and scoots over to the rail. At the rail he grabs on with a life-saving grip and pulls and pulls. Usually he gets stuck half way up and cries in frustrating agony. But more and more he succeeds in his mission and stands delighted while clutching the rail.

To me, the unbelievable thing is how little time has passed since he was a helpless newborn. Only a few months ago, even with help, he couldn’t sit up, hold his head steady, or focus on objects just a few feet away. It’s like watching a miracle. He looks at things as though he was blind and suddenly sees. He enjoys simple movements with unmistakable relish. He clearly desires independence – his actions say, "I can do it myself!"

Nearly 8 months have passed since the day he was born, and I don’t feel like I’ve been ignorant as to how quickly 8 short months can pass. I guess I just didn’t realize how short baby-hood is. My son’s baby fat is already starting to melt into toddler muscle. I think this illustrates more than anything, the underlying feeling I have in caring for my baby. There too little time to allow myself to wallow in frustration at his inability to speak, comfort himself, or control his bowels. I try to continually remind myself that he is fast becoming a boy and, soon enough, a man.