Hug Tight

Something that he does with increasing frequency now, as if he knows that time is precious and when together, love is all that matters.

The winds of change are blowing. I am happy and excited but typically me, I worry in my constant strive for perfection. I'm a worrywart beneath this carefree veneer. I think too much and do even more, so sometimes I'm on the point of bursting (although regretfully, not with milk).

On that note, Su has been making me soups of all kinds. Spinach soup, wintermelon soup, soup with "chekor manis" leaves all with the express reason for me to be able to well, express myself. It's actually working but it takes discipline. I never thought of love as being disciplined before - it's a new concept for me but it's also true.

Back to Dobbes. He's learnt to turn over and surprises himself most times he does it. When he struggles to get his fat butt over from a side position, he wails helplessly and sometimes Mobbes slyly pushes him over when I'm not looking. Then Dobbes ends up on his face, arms and legs flailing as he flaps about haplessly while Mobbes looks on and laughs before righting him.

This process then repeats a few times until they both give up or dinner is ready.

I find myself suddenly remembering things that I must or want to do with Dobbes and do them on the fly. Grab that book, it's got touchy-feely things in it, good for his development. Why am I not using all these rocker-bouncer-contraptions and baby-gyms that we were given; get them out and get him in it. Those flash cards, they're good for him, let him have a view now before it's time to go to bed.

And all this while, the guilt, the guilt, of not being there 24/7 to be able to do this at leisure with peace even as we swap slobbery kisses and hug each other tight.

So for now, it's just the hugging tight. Because if I have to choose just one thing, it is for him to know and remember that not for one second do I stop loving and just loving him.