My senses feel Emory starting to change now, and I keep getting frustrated, thinking that I'm no longer qualified to be his mother or that I don't know how to teach him, and I've gotten especially discouraged since we left his entourage in Washington. I love how much Emory is loved by all our family, and wouldn't trade the time we get to share with them for anything. However, as Emory grows and becomes more intelligent, his newly discovered personality traits start to wear on me. I've been working on becoming more patient with him and myself through this process, and I'm learning I have a long way to go. Plus, I'm a little miffed that he's too cool to hug or kiss me now, except on the rarest of occasions.
One thing I realized this morning is that when Emory acts or reacts in a way I don't like, it's because he's frustrated with his limited means of communication. Fussing, whining, screaming, screeching, etc. are methods to explain, and I'm not getting his point all too often. So I've committed myself from now on (and within reason because I'm human and I'll still go insane from time to time) to try to really listen to the messages he tries to deliver and respond in a way that will help him progress.
Though sometimes I wish he would just start blurting out real sentences now, and make this as easy on me as the first 12 months of his life.
So that I could eat breakfast this morning, I let the little man loose on a couple of his own projects.
I ate in peace and he stayed happy. Mission accomplished.
Upcoming: Summer Shenanigans and Savor the State. More soon.
Almost immediately after this posted, Emory sent me to the moon and back by smothering me with all kinds of pacifier-involved kisses and love. Lucky mama.