Every day is new

I'm trying to remember that every day is a fresh opportunity. Every morning I creep down the hallway to where the slumbering warmth of my baby boy awaits and wonder, full of hope...what will today bring? As soon as I open the door, up pops bop with a big smile and a sleepily wonderful, "mamadada!?" then, as he sees who it is, clarifies with "mama!" I adore these first bright open smiles of the day. When it's just us two, with the whole day ahead of us, before any terribles or battles of will rear their ever-lurking heads.

Colin is fifty-fifty a sunshiney morning boy. After the initial wake-up joy, some days he's chirpy and happy and full of hugs. And other days...not so much. I love the mornings when he gets up easily, submits quietly for a fresh diaper and clothes, and is off and running with a little glow of luv surrounding him. The days when he's crying before he leaves the crib are a little harder to get off on the right foot. I have to be patient about easing him through the morning chores of diaper and clothing. This morning he didn't want to get out of the crib, but clearly didn't want to stay in it either. Where did I put that instruction manual?

After a tearful morning prep I dropped Colin off at Donna's. I try not to be jealous of the fact that she always gets a happy smile and hug, no matter how our morning goes. Days like this leave my heart a little lower than on the happy mornings. I can't help thinking that I'm doing something wrong, that I'm always reacting the wrong way. What the right way is, I have no clue.

I guess my solace is that regardless of how the day goes, every morning I still creep down the hall...