On not getting my hopes up too high
I'm still here at the Type-A Mom Conference tonight, headed home tomorrow morning. I am pretty sure 99.9% of the reason Dave has been sending me photos like the one above is to show proof that the kids have not watched TV the entire time I've been away. Happily, he took them out pumpkin picking today. Although I get the distinct feeling that Max has been wearing that same shirt for three days in a row and why is Sabrina still in shorts and Crocs in 60-degree weather? OK, I'd better shut my trap right now or no more blog conferences for me, aka The Completely Ungrateful Wife.
I'm antsy about getting home because I can't wait to hear what else Max has to say, following his "getting dressed" amazing feat of enunciation. Dave says he's been babbling lots, though he hasn't heard any specific new words. Me, I'm trying hard to not hope too much. The way these turning points have gone in the past is that Max may do something once, and then not do it again for a long while.
If I let myself get overly excited about these things, my heart ends up crashing hard.
So as ecstatic as I am when Max has a first, I enjoy the moment...and then I try so hard to not anticipate the next time he'll do it. It can be a little torturous, this waiting thing. Because when your child does something you have been aching for him to do for years and years, you want that second time to come around fast.
I'll bet you know what I mean.