The first eighteen months
Saturday night was the best night. We didn't do anything special, but everything we did was totally off the cuff. While Henry was napping, Dave and I decided we would go visit Mr. L because we hadn't seen him since right before our three week stretch of stomach flus, head colds, and ear infections. Henry is getting less and less shy around Mr. L. This time he only spent a few minutes with his head tucked into his daddy's armpit as opposed to the ten minutes he spent there last time we visited. Also, after snacking on some cheese, he dug my water bottle out of his diaper bag and insisted on drinking from it, a sport which he enjoyed immensely but which made me and Dave break out in hives. (We both have lingering gagging/choking fears from the days when he would gag and choke on everything. You know, last week.) Every time he'd take a sip he'd stomp his feet a few times and smile real big because he was JUST SO PROUD OF HIMSELF (stomp! stomp! stomp!). He's been practicing every day since then, but not around Dave because his heart can't take it.
When we headed back to the car after our visit, I suggested we drive by a new cafe that just opened up because I was feeling a hankering for their Cobb salad, and since the words "salad" and "craving" very rarely come together, I thought it would good to indulge. The place was empty so we had a relaxed dinner of salad, sweet potato, grilled cheese, and a reuben. After that, we headed out to a huge local gift shop that also has an amazing bakery so we could get a couple of cookies and some cupcakes for dessert. Later that night, after we'd put Henry to bed, I mentioned to Dave how great it was that everything we had done after Mr. L's we did just because we felt like it.
The next day I was talking to Megan on the phone. She mentioned wishing they were at a point where they could get more of a schedule going for her kid, which I thought was ironic because I had just been waxing poetic to Dave about how great it is to not have to be on so much of a schedule. Which leads to the breakdown of the last stages of pregnancy through the first 18 months of a kids life, from the point of view of, well, me:
Late pregnancy: get this kid out of me already! I'll do anything! I just want to be able to get out of bed without having to ask my husband to give me a shove...
A couple of weeks after giving birth: I love you, kid, but do you think you could be a little more consistent?
18 months after giving birth: OMG! Do you realize we just went out to dinner and then shopping, not because we planned it all out this morning, but because we just decided we wanted to? How awesome is that? We have the best kid. EVER!