I admit it. I’m an obsessed mom. Although I do have to say that I make a conscious effort to keep from talking endlessly about my amazing kid when around my friends. Those kinds of moms bore me and I don’t want to be boring.

This blog, however, is for me and for my son. It’s about me and about my son. So I feel no shame, no regret, no shyness when talking about my kid. It is, after all, a blog and specifically, my blog. If you’re not interested in reading what I’m babbling about, on to the next blog you go! Right?

The big plan is to print out these posts and keep them stored safely in a binder – or maybe a beautiful box – so that V can read them when he’s much older. I want him to be able to see how much he’s enriched my life via my written recollections. Exciting, fun, magical, frustrating, tiresome, difficult things happen every single day in our relationship. Capturing a little bit each day will – I hope – one day be what he considers one of his greatest gifts from me.

It’s at this point that I’m going to gush about all things V that I love so dearly – if for no other reason than to document them so he can see himself through my eyes. I’ll save the list of frustrating, tiresome, difficults things for another time. Only great things for now.

My dearest, dearest little man. …

I love your little legs – your inner thighs to be exact. I love tickling them while telling you that “I’m going to eat you up”. You laugh hysterically and so do I. There is nothing cuter than when you walk around the house in just your diaper and a t-shirt because those skinny little legs are just precious.

I love the way to get excited about seeing something – like an airplane – and point to it and say “See that”? Your little voice is filled with excitement, your eyes get wide with wonder, and every single time you respond like it’s the very first airplane, dog, car, bus, ambulance, etc. that you’ve ever seen.

I love the way your hair curls up in tight little ringlets when it’s hot outside. Or when you’ve just woken up from a nap – and your hair is damp with sweat and filled with those darling ringlets.

I love the way you won’t wear a coat or a jacket without zipping it up.

I love the way squeal with excitement when your Dad gets home from work.

I love the way you pick your nose (“nose picky”) and give it to me. It’s better than eating it …

I love the way you wake up in the morning, You’re always so happy, and love to cuddle with me until you’re fully awake.

I love the way you stretch your arms out over your head so that I can tickle your armpits. Again and again.

I love the way you dance.

I love the songs you make up. And the way you ask me “Like that song, Mama?”

I love the way you wildly shake your body after you’ve fallen down or hurt yourself in an effort to “shake it off”.

I love the fact that you always want me to kiss your “owies”. And I love that once I kiss your owie, you tell me you have more that need kissing all over your body (even though you don’t).

I love the way you read to me.

I love the way you sit on the floor with your legs stretched out fully in front of you with a book on your lap – completely absorbed.

I love the fact that you sleep with Bo and Bo’s blanket every night.

I love that you know which dog is Baci and which dog is Bella, even though they look alike. And I love that you have two stuffed black dogs – one named Baci and one named Bella – and you know which is which with them, too.

I love that you give the dogs commands with such authority in your voice.

I love that you will quietly sit and watch TV while I take a shower and get ready.

I love that you call a shirt a “shirp”.

I love that you let me trim your finger and toe nails without a fuss.

I love that you want to trim mine.

And most of all, I love the way that you love me. Madly.