Habitual

Lately, Hunter’s been developing habits that is standard to baby dome. The little menace is a wily little one. His exclusive bad habit, the numero ex factor uno is sitting a foot away from Chloe’s water bowl waiting for our lame discipline tactic, “Hunter do not touch that,” I lower my voice hoping it will set the tone for an ass whooping, “Hunter don’t you dare!” He turns around sparks his angelic smile and wade his hands in Chloe’s water bowl and laughs. I’ve gone so low as slapped his hands followed with, “bad, bad, bad.” Handling Hunter as one would a canine, my light slapping making him explode into laughter. My first experience in many where my child will find my parenting skill set laughable. I am relieved to know that he found humor in my chore. Needless to say Chloe’s meal time is not as convenient as it used to be.

Onto bad habit numero dos the let down. The let down is his relentless need to be picked up only to be put down. This little worm nuts refuses to be held. As Hunter wants nothing to do with cradling, my devil spawn demands intensive crawling time. His play room is fortified with berserk capacity, instead he dismisses the play room for the outskirts of the unknown. He, with great peril, delves into everything that is dangerous and off limits. Lately, he’s found an attraction to the kitchen. He switches all the gas range knobs to off which makes cooking difficult, than making his way to the book shelf to ‘cause more havoc. As soon as someone opens the refrigerator door, he darts for the opportunity to get in the cold box. Regardless of the generous size of his play room, Hunter is not aware of the parameters.

Now for the bad habit, the mucho gusto of them all, numero tres. Stairs. That’s right the harmless series of flights that get one to another level. Our little menace sent me into instant shock therapy, the unfortunate Wednesday morning that curdled my blood to tears. As I brushed my teeth I heard him faint and distant, instantly with great mommy instinct I bolted past the unlocked gate to the second floor. There he was in our bedroom a foot away from the open glass sliding door to the open face balcony overlooking our backyard. I thanked my lucky stars, and cursed and hobbled my husband for his negligence. Hunter’s newfound mobility has me on edge. The experiences are a few, but it’s enough to put me in a mental hospital.

As many women are in love with the notion of being a mother, like accessorizing their life with an exquisite Valentino or a pair of Chloe's. Thus fashion has it's seasons, and so do children. Having a child is magnificent, but brace yourself for a turbulent, yet beautiful experience. It’s a blast! I’m a little beat, but my philosophy to “free style” has gotten me through bruised and harmed. Besides the lack of sleeping in, I venture where my little man takes me. It keeps me on my toes. Life would be boring otherwise.

This is Shellie exclaiming, “boys kick girls asses any day” back to you Bob at the studio!