Cuteness reigns supreme in my world
Blah blah blah.
I must sound like a broken record:
Hollis is a champ.
Hollis is great.
Hollis is so fucking cute.
I can't help it, though. It's all true. Really, really true.
Take this holiday weekend for example. He had a short morning nap on Thursday and then we went to dinner at a tres chic restaurant in the Texas hill country (read: bloody expensive). He had his khakis and little sweater vest on and was a perfectly whirling dervish of a gentleman.
We basically fed him food for 2 1/2 hours straight to get him through it. I wish I'd taken a picture of the floor around our table when we left. It looked like a pack of starving hogs had gotten into a box of Cheerios.
:: Is this cuteness? Hell yeah it is!
Every day I try to get him outside to explore. I have a swing tied to our front tree (handily rigged by Anthony with his old climbing ropes, I might add) and a little person bench that Sheree's parents bought for Hollis. He loves that swing, but nothing compares to his fascination with that bench and what's behind it, on it, under it, and around it.
On Friday, he discovered some crab grass (or whatever that creeping, invasive shit is called) and every time he'd pull on a vine he'd say, "Uh oh!! Uh oh!!"
:: See?? C U T E N E S S everywhere!!
Saturday our trees in the backyard decided to dump their leaves in earnest. Anthony dutifully, and sweetly, put on layers and headed in the back with a leaf blower/mulcher combo. He'd argued with me that he "didn't need no stinkin' blower," but I assured him that he'd be better off than trying to rake those plate-sized leaves the old fashioned way. I honestly don't know if he tried it out for himself (as he is wont to do) or took my advice straight away, but the end result was him basically vacuuming the backyard, much to Hollis' delight. - Maybe it was because it rained for about 2 hours and who likes to rake wet, musty leaves by hand??-
As Hollis and I watched Anthony, Hollis would wriggle in my arms and scream "Da da!!! Da da!!!" until I set him down. Then he'd toddle over to Anthony's legs still screaming in sheer baby delight at the noise and sucking sounds of the wet leaves. Anthony said he could hear Hollis even over the noise of the mulcher and his iPod.
:: Now I'm gonna barf it's so cute.
My life is good. I don't know all the answers and, quite honestly, I've sorta stopped asking all the questions I used to yearn to solve. Maybe that's the ticket - just stop stressing about resolving everything. Or something like it.
My relationship with Anthony is incredible. I've never been so bonded to another human being like this before. Hollis is healthy and happy (although we did find him fast asleep in a bunch of barf Saturday night, but all is well now). I'm reaching out to friends again and feel less isolated and more firmly planted in who I am and what I'm here to do. I'm normally used to much pain, anguish, stress, and drama. You know like when I quit my job, went to school full time, bought a new house, moved, saw my dying estranged father, moved my infirm grandmother into assisted living against her will, had my mother move to my city, and got pregnant all in one year. That's the kind of shit I'm used to.
I have to say that this cute shit WAAAAAAAY better. Way, way, way better. Thank fucking God.