I love, love, love watching Ethan fall asleep – the way his eyes flutter open and close, how his gaze drifts into a distance and how his lips relax into an ever so slight frown. It’s so freaking cute!

Some moms might/will hate me, but I’m going to say it anyway – Ethan is a pretty good sleeper. He started sleeping through the night at 2 months and doesn’t usually  put up too much of a fuss when we put him down. When we’re out, we just need to rock him for a few minutes in his car seat or stroller before his eyes get heavy. Maye that’s why I have the time and patience to study his face as his drifts into his dreams. Hopefully the magic doesn’t die now that I’ve talked about it.

We tend to remember the big stuff – first smile, first laugh, first crawl, first step etc. – as parents we are conditioned to engrave those milestone moments into our memory bank for safe keeping. But man, if I could, I would take every single small moment with me. The way he studies my face when we’re snuggling, or how he coos when he rests his head on my chest or the way he happily gazes up at me after I’ve fed him – I can’t even fully articulate how these seemingly inconsequential occurrences melt my heart on the daily. If this was the world of Pixar’s Inside Out, each of these moments would be effectively catalogued  within my long term memory in the section marked, “Very Special Ethan Loves Mommy Memories – Do Not Ever Forget, Ever.”

Barring that, I’ll just take lots of pictures and videos just in case.

Here’s one of those moments:

Cutting Ethan’s nails requires the precision of disabling a bomb. It’s one of the scariest things I have to do. Therefore, I don’t do it. My mother-in-law has taken on this responsibility. I’ve tried to reclaim ownership, but I think she loves doing it. That, or she has no faith in me at all, due to the several times that I’ve cut him and given him blisters.

Well, regardless, she really needs to up her nail-cutting game, because Ethan has been going Edward Scissors Hands on his face.

Notice the battle wound from a recent scuffle he had with himself during his nap. Yes, I know it’s just itty bitty, but to a mom, it might as well be a gash across his entire face! It’s actually in the shape of a tiny tear. Thug life:

When I have a “bad” day – that is, a day where I really feel like I could have done better with Ethan (e.g. didn’t give him enough tummy time, didn’t clean his toys that he regularly tries to digest, didn’t burp him well enough which led to a vomit explosion etc.) – I always think to myself “tomorrow I’ll do better.”

While that thought is not revelatory by any means, I take more peace in it now than ever before. Perhaps it’s because I screw up a lot, but I think it’s also because I’m learning babies are incredibly resilient. Rarely does what you do today screw them up forever. Also, they have short term mermory. Ethan could wail like there’s a global breast milk drought before he falls asleep, but then he’ll wake up, stare at the ceiling and think the world is a magical place.

I think it’s clear – pooping in his pants notwithstanding – I need to be more like my baby.

Here’s a short clip of my son rejoicing at the dawn of a new day:

Despite having what appears to be 690,937,124 photos of Ethan, I’m hardly in any of them. My husband is of the kind who prefers to live the moment vs. capture it. Well, good for freaking him.

When he’s old, senile and gray, he’ll have the luxury of reflecting on years and years of beautiful memories shared between him and his son. Ethan will look back and think, “wow, dad and I had some good times.” They’ll have this special bond, rooted in experiences they’ll be able to recount and relive — all because mom took pictures!

Great. Just great.

On the plus side, any photo that I do have with Ethan, is one that I’ve made happen. Meaning, I look at my husband and say, “take a picture now.” The benefit to this is that I ensure I’m somewhat presentable. So 10-15 years down the road, when I’ve completely traded in keeping up appearances for “I don’t give two Fs”, Ethan will see the eight photos he has with his mom from back in the day and think, “I guess she wasn’t always a loser.” Here’s hoping.

February 23, 10:23 PM. My husband was out that night and I was exhausted. Despite my best renditions of lullaby classics like “Sleep, Ethan, Sleep”, “Please, Please, Sleep” and “Whyyyyy” – Ethan opted for tears, many, many, tears. So, I picked him up from his bassinet, held him close, then placed him on top of me as we both lay down. He calmed and a gentle silence fell over the room. We/he finally slept.

We haven’t slept like that since. Nowadays, when I place him on top of me, he immediately arches his neck up and whimpers to be placed somewhere else. I think he prefers a location with less ribcage and more mattress cushioning.

While I’m glad I remember that night on February 23, I’m hoping that date loses its significance. Despite the tears (his and mine), I desperately hope that wasn’t the last time he would fall asleep on me. Don’t grow up too fast, please.