Joy

There are so many ways and reasons to get aggravated with this world and everything in it. I have identified a great many of those ways and reasons. Joyful events are a welcome diversion, and I try not to take them for granted.

My son provides me with nearly all of my joyful events. He doesn't even have to make an effort, because his existence is really all it takes. There are some highlights, though, that I think about when I'm having a really bad day.

I love his laugh. That sweet, infectious laugh that's often accompanied by a high-pitched squeal. It's so pure and happy. Watching him laugh is even better, because he's got these great dimples and his eyes sparkle. I fall in love with him all over again.

One of my favorite joys happened just this past weekend. We were putting him to bed, and we've been trying hard to get him to tell us goodnight. Sometimes he'll do it, and sometimes he just refuses. Saturday night, he looked up at us as he snuggled under the covers and said, "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy. I love you." My heart melted. You never want to admit it to your kids, but it's times like these that they could ask for the moon and you wouldn't say no for anything. His speech was delayed due to his heart surgery and frequent ear infections that prevented him from hearing speech normally. It's slow progress, but we work with him, and he's doing better every day. I keep hearing him say those words, and it's better than chocolate. Now, anybody that knows me knows this is monumental. Because I would have sworn that such a thing wasn't possible. My husband has certainly never achieved this status, bless his heart!

The other great joy that Brock gives me is when I come in the door from work. Now, everybody talks about that unconditional love a dog gives you. How they can meet you at the door with tail wagging and just be so happy to see you, even if you only left 5 minutes ago. Well, that doesn't hold a candle to what I get from him. It doesn't matter what he's doing or holding, when he sees me, it's dropped and forgotten. He goes into a full-on run, exclaiming, "Mommy! Mommy!" over and over again until he actually reaches me. At that point, he throws himself against me and holds on for dear life. If I pick him up, he squeezes me and kisses me. I swear, heaven must feel something like this. The only thing better than that is that it happens again the very next time I walk in.

I also love it when he takes my hand. He will do this when he wants me to come play with him, or when he wants me to go into another room. The feel of his hand in mine is just the best.

I've done something from the time he was born. I like to stroke his cheek. At first, it was with just one finger, but now he's big enough that I can use my hand. The coolest part about it...he does it back to me. Just the same way. He looks into my eyes and is just so gentle. I think to myself that he clearly feels the same way I do about this gesture. He gives back all the love that I give him every time I do it.

I guess you can tell that I really love my son. It's impossible to describe it to anyone that doesn't have children. It's like when the Grinch's heart grew. Mine just expanded the day I found out I was going to have him, and it hasn't stopped growing since. I love him unconditionally and completely. And everyone keeps telling me to remember these moments when he is a teenager. Which is one of the reasons that I'm writing it now. Because I don't ever want to forget this kind of joy.