Tag Archives: Milestones

A Lifetime in 6 Months

It’s amazing to me how much has transpired since Cameron turned one year old in January. I was physically exhausted after writing this letter to him. I’d found out the condition of my Gran had worsened and posted this – another drainer.

We made the decision to go to Scotland together as a family to see her in March, she passed while we were there and then I wrote this and this.

You’d never know I generally seep in sarcasm after reading those. Everybody takes you seriously when you have a lilting accent, though. Something about not hearing the different sarcastic inflection. Kiss my kilt. It’s draining the sarcastic life out of me.

So, I decided since Cameron was turning 18 months old today, I was going to capture some shots of him and Ian together. It turned out well. As well as a mother could hope. Now I know why they say never to work with children or animals. Or animal children. (Click on any of the images to enlarge.)

I get them in position, and then they spot a farmer on his humongous tractor 16 miles away. OK, it was about half an acre behind our place, but still…

I birth a brain child and heave their bench from the porch onto the lawn. Too bad they’re too busy TALKING to pay attention to me. Their mother.

Almost a shot. Too bad they’re both looking the wrong way. What’s over there, you say? Nothing. A rogue twig, probably.

Ian tries to steal a kiss, holding on to Cameron with the double hand death grip.

An escapee chases a bloody butterfly. However, I am still oozing the patience of a saint.

I manage to get Ian back on the bench, doing some sort of Playgirl move. Too bad his shoes are on backwards…

Yes, he’s a freakin comedian. I’m laughing too. Can you hear me? CAN YOU HEAR ME??!!

I fake sneeze to get Cameron to laugh. It backfired when Ian started doing it too.

Granted, they’re still sitting together, but then Ian starts body slamming him because I kept telling him to move back beside Cameron. Cameron then curses at him in his own language. Ian looks on, obviously indifferent to the insults being fired at him.

I give up. This one’ll do.

I took this the night before. His first shot on a swing.

I get no respect. Check out his new growler face.

I get Ian in a prime spot and have him wait for Cameron. He was a no-show.

I’ll leave it to the professionals next time, they get paid to be miserable. In the meantime, I have some SERIOUS blackmail fodder for when they’re both teenagers. This is me with baited breath.

An Open Letter to Cameron

My sweet little Cameron, I can’t believe I brought you home a year ago. Where has the time gone? It has disappeared all too quickly and I can’t believe I am here already. When I arrived at the hospital, I had six names for you in mind, but I think in my heart I knew you’d be Cameron, but I wanted to see you anyway–just to make sure. My eyes danced across your little face, and with each movement I offered the unspoken name and stared. None of them seemed right until I ended with your name. And anyway, it was the only name your Daddy and I could agree on.

OK, fine, I’ll admit it, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you: The perma-scowl was so endearing, the gentle cooing and squeaks, the soft downy hair, the tiny uncoordinated fingers and toes. Despite my insecurities and diffidence, with a soft smile (or was it gas?) and loving sigh you made my heart expand and make room for another child. I felt it change with every soft tear that graced my face.

I love you explicitly. I knew who you were after just a few months; but now, especially, I can see your big personality shine through your pint-sized body. You are lead by your heart, you will be my Mr. Sensitivity and I definitely recognise this trait in myself. Don’t ever change because here’s a little secret–women love it! Always go with your feelings – your gut, if you will – it’ll fair you well in life.

I love watching you interact with your older brother. I marvel at the love you have for him, your eyes light up every morning as he greets you. You have been saying his name for a long time and I know this delights him too. “Ee-ah!” I hear you call. At his tender age of 3, he sees you progress and learn too, and he gets excited when you take on a new skill.

I am amazed at how much you have accomplished in such a short time. I asked you not to take your first steps as quickly as your brother (9.5 months), so you obliged and waited. One. More. Week. I even made sure I didn’t encourage it! You were so determined and here you are now–running! At seven months you had eight teeth. Not content at sprouting one at a time, you push through two and three all at once. What amazes me is that you took it in your stride; you stayed content and happy. You are my happy, smiling little boy.

Thank you. Thank you for having a healthy curiosity. You see something once and you are satisfied with it. The cupboards in the kitchen are locked on the outside, you see this and are content to leave them alone. Thank you for that. It is a small mercy, and a difference from your brother I am so happy to live with.

Maybe I should tell you. I think you’re beautiful. OK, fine. I think you’re handsome. I entered you in a Beautiful Baby competition online. This is my favourite shot of you:

My Little Blue Eyed Boy
You have reminded me that tiny, generally unseen things in the world are a delight: A tree swaying in the wind, our cockatiel when he takes flight, a warm bath filled with bubbles and toys, the wonders of being outdoors, hiding under blankets and little games of hide and seek.

I’m grateful for the head butt love taps, the soft open-mouth wet kisses, how you stop in your tracks to wrestle me as I lie on the carpet taking a moment. You make me smile with toothy grins and laughs, an amazing love-filled hug when I need it, or when you reach up and gently stroke my hair. I’ve learned that I need you just as much as you need me.

My favourite moments? When you come up to me and pat my legs to get my attention. You almost say, “Lift me up! Hold me, it’s time for my nap.” It’s those quiet times as you fall asleep in my arms, your little body cradled naturally around my waist as we sit together and just dream. The soft sighs as your breathing slows rhythmically and your arm drapes over me. I silently stare at your beautiful face and just marvel that you are mine, mine to take care of and nurture forever. I’m still learning all this Mummy stuff, but I love every minute of it.