I'm still here at the Type-A Mom Conference tonight, headed home tomorrow morning. I am pretty sure 99.9% of the reason Dave has been sending me photos like the one above is to show proof that the kids have not watched TV the entire time I've been away. Happily, he took them out pumpkin picking today. Although I get the distinct feeling that Max has been wearing that same shirt for three days in a row and why is Sabrina still in shorts and Crocs in 60-degree weather? OK, I'd better shut my trap right now or no more blog conferences for me, aka The Completely Ungrateful Wife.
I'm antsy about getting home because I can't wait to hear what else Max has to say, following his "getting dressed" amazing feat of enunciation. Dave says he's been babbling lots, though he hasn't heard any specific new words. Me, I'm trying hard to not hope too much. The way these turning points have gone in the past is that Max may do something once, and then not do it again for a long while.
If I let myself get overly excited about these things, my heart ends up crashing hard.
So as ecstatic as I am when Max has a first, I enjoy the moment...and then I try so hard to not anticipate the next time he'll do it. It can be a little torturous, this waiting thing. Because when your child does something you have been aching for him to do for years and years, you want that second time to come around fast.
I'll bet you know what I mean.
I know EXACTLY what you mean...especially with speech! Jack will say something totally new, and very clearly, and then I'll never hear it again. There are things he said almost a year ago that I've never heard again! But...I know he can make the sound, so I wait patiently to hear it again!
ReplyDeleteI know he is going to say that again, your hopes up to high is that Dave bathed them and fed them and didn't lobotomize them with TV while you were away.
ReplyDeleteSo true Ellen! In fact, you just inspired me to write a post about this same topic from my perspective tomorrow hopefully! Be on the lookout.
ReplyDeleteThat said, keep those hopes up there, Max is on his way! :)
I got all teary-eyed reading this one... I'm with you...
ReplyDeleteMy emotions completely rise and fall with my son's progress. So much so that a good day makes me optimistic about the fate of the entire universe, and a bad day sends me into a state approximating a major depression. And it is so frustrating when you anticipate great progress and are rewarded by slow progress. I've come to the conclusion that any progress is good.
ReplyDeleteUmmm... we'll have to compete for the Completely Ungrateful Wife award. Pretty sure I've been winning the last few weeks. ;)
ReplyDeleteThat is great news about the speech! And yes, I know exactly what you mean.
ReplyDeleteI saw Max and Sabrina yesterday at the farm yesterday and looked for you (but now I know you are away)--I was really hoping to meet you! (And yes, they looked like they were having a great time and I assure you there were NO tvs at the event yesterday.
:-)
I waited for over 4 years to hear Ashley say "Daddy" and now I can't get enough.
ReplyDeleteHey Jana! Nice to read about Jack doing something then never again. This is Ashley all over!
Oh how I understand this one. I got a bit emotional reading these last two posts. I can completely relate to almost every comment made here. It's just nice to know I am not alone.
ReplyDeleteOh how I relate. I read this post and your linked post about waiting for the "seconds" with tears in my eyes. Though I wish our journeys were easier, I'm so fortunate to have strong women like you, who've been on this journey with our "special powered" kiddos a little longer to learn from. To show me that my feelings are normal. To show me that I'm not crazy to feel completely BEAT UP when so long passes b/t a first and a second . . . We recently had about 10 (assisted) steps. . . and I'm waiting patiently for more, and just keep telling myself (as her PT told me) "now we know she has that in her muscle memory." who knows if that's accurate or meaningful, but it gets me by when I start going to that place of panic . . . Thank you for sharing your story, and Max's.
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