Sunshine and scribbles

I was standing in line at the thrift store, when the sales associate asked where my little boy was today (they, of course, know us by name there).

Morgan was sitting quietly in the stroller.

I looked at the clerk, sort of puzzled. We were both standing right in front of him.

My response: oh, he’s just right here.

I smiled, then wheeled Morgan to where the man could see him clearer.

He apologized and laughed, slightly embarrassed. He told me he had mistook the child in the stroller to be a girl.

A little baby girl. Dressed in blue.

No worries, store clerk. No worries.

Everywhere I go these days, people wonder. People ask.

I suppose it could he his perfect, fair skin, or his blue-blue eyes. He is quite a doll, you know (then again, I am quite partial).

And although his daddy sometimes calls him a girl when he’s whining too much, he’s a boy.

Very much a boy.

Cars and trucks are everywhere, strewn all throughout the house by the end of the day. He makes boy sounds – car sounds, motor sounds. He eats like a man. All of the time. And I dress him in blue and orange and green and brown.

No girl of mine would ever wear such colors.

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My baby is a boy. And how I love him. Each day, he grows bigger, taller. Less of a baby, more of a child. Yet, Jared and I still scoop his little sleeping body into our arms nearly each night to marvel at his growth, at his beauty. To kiss him and love on him. To hold him tightly in our arms until he begins to fidget enough we worry of waking him.

Then we bend ourselves over his wooden crib where we lay him back down, safely, soundly. There he sleeps so tender, all through the night.

What I need to say this evening, at the end of a very long week, is that Motherhood has taken all of my feelings, all of my passion and deepened each one tenfold.

It has taught me. Tried me. Brought me to my knees.

Brought me so much fulfillment, so much happiness.

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I remember back when people would ask me (then, a newborn mother) if I could remember what life was like before I had Morgan.

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I can't really now.