I cried twice today. Once was just a couple stray tears that we're wiped away and then forgotten.
The other time was the ugly cry. You know, the twisty faced, can't-catch-my-breath, oh Lawd Jesus kind of cry.
I was watching videos of The Kid from when he was younger. And when I say younger, I mean about 3 and a half seconds prior to today since he is all of 8 months old. Oh my, getting teary. Not.gonna.cry.again.
I really have never been so upset over my little boy growing up, but for some reason those videos of his cute little newborn squawks were heart wrenching today. Dear Old Dad gave me a hug and the "you are sweet in a crazy lady way" look.
My second cry was after a brief visit to this website:
And yes this was the ugly cry. Not 100% certain if the crying was out of fear for my belongings, walls, carpets, and pets or because I was laughing so hard I couldn't breath. Maybe a little of both.
Yesterday The Kid ripped a cord cover off the wall taking half the lovely ecru shade of paint with it. He turned around, waving the cord cover over his head in victory and looked me directly in the eye. It was as if he were saying "This is my town now lady so get ready for the shit show". An easy enough fix sure but in my heart of hearts I know this is just the beginning.
My future is full of crayon covered walls, Vaseline covered dog and a robust insurance policy on our home.
It's not like The Kid's destructive nature doesn't come naturally. His father did almost burn down his kitchen as a child and his mother is still quite adept at shrinking sweaters in the laundry and crashing cars into garage doors. And let us not forget about big sister, The Dog. The Dog has a post doctorate in destroying. From carpets to a couple of couches, from crockpots to passports. This dog has destroyed it all. More than once probably.
On the bright side, at least we have experience cleaning up the aftermath.