Two days ago, my son pulled himself up to standing. He’d been attempting for a small while, and because I’m wanting be able to relive every amazing moment of his life in 20 years, I had my camera ready.
We have one of those half infant half toddler tubs from Target. It’s been his only tub, and because we’ve stood him up every single night in the tub since birth to wash that tiny little butt, it’s not surprising this was where he attempted, and accomplished, his newfound talent. If you’ve ever seen these tubs you know that the infant side is sloped like a spa tub so he could lay back and just splash. As he grew and could sit unassisted, we flipped it around to the toddler side…where he could splash. He gathered a few weeks ago that where the head goes on the infant side could be used as a handle and has been pulling himself up and over to flatten his tummy on the slope to generally reach around for things at a new angle. Recently, with the help of mom and dad, he’s been standing much faster from a laying or sitting position while on the floor.
So this night, we saw his little brain working, while he was wiggling and reaching and splashing. Jeremy sat on the floor to catch, I worked the camera. He leaned forward, grabbed ahold of the infant side and very slowly straightened his legs. He concentrated so hard, wobbled a bit and fell backwards. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Each time he got sturdier, and thus more confident. Each time Jeremy and I held our breath so we wouldn’t break his concentration. Each time, I got closer and closer to sobbing.
Finally, he did it. He stood up, stayed sturdy (as much as you can having never really used your legs before now) straightened his torso and walked his hands up the seat in the shower…and promptly grabbed for the shampoo.
I have never been SO proud in my life! Then I realized: except when he rolled over the first time, or sat up without assistance, or we felt teeth buds, or when he ate solid foods, or when I lost him in the living room because he’d rolled from one side to the other, or when he nursed for the very first time.
My kid is amazing. I know, moms…right? But seriously. Amazing! Maybe not because he’s developing wonderfully or because he’s so chill or because I still feel I don’t deserve this tiny miracle, but I think he’s amazing because he simply is. When exactly do we become so tarnished and beaten that we think one decent effort is “good enough”? I keep replaying how many times, and for how many weeks, did he try standing? What if I tried something that hard?! Talk amount blowing your mind…