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Last weekend we experienced our first temper tantrums from Henry. I don't remember what the first one was all about, but I definitely remember the second one, because an hour later I was sitting on the couch madly knitting, chowing down on peanut m&m's, and wondering when the tightness in my chest would dissipate.

He's completely entrenched in the "I want to do it my way" stage of the game and it takes a bit of a toll on a person's outlook on life over the course of the day. By naptime we've both had it with each other and are equally pleased about getting some alone time to spend in a darkened room, staring at glow-in-the-dark stars or reading a book until nodding off, depending on which one of us we're talking about.

When they're little tiny babies, when the end of the day rolls around and you've put them to bed, sometimes you feel like all you've managed to do is keep them alive, nothing more and nothing less. Of course you've also been talking to them, playing, showing them around, but you don't remember that and you feel like you're not doing much of anything at all. Lately I've been feeling that way again, except this time around I feel like all I'm doing is being stern and aggravated. Sometimes I'm amazed when Henry wakes up from his nap and is excited to see me because I'm not sure I'd be all that excited to see me. He's testing boundaries all the time so it's not surprising I'm saying "no" and having to redirect him to other things a lot more, but it's still a little hard to get used to.

Yesterday a friend of ours came over for dinner. Henry was shy at the outset, and he came charging over to me so he could snuggle under my chin and inspect our guest from a safe location until he decided what he thought. It was the most glorious moment of the day, because it was one of the first times in a long time he wasn't running away from me.