Nate, Milo, and I took a trip to Ft. Worth this weekend to see Nate's mom and grandma. What an amazing time we had there. Milo loves his Nannie and Nonnie, as evidenced by the fact that he talked to and smiled at them any time he was awake. He was loved and cuddled and spoiled, and that's exactly the way I like it.
Let me say this much, though. My poor little babyson does not love to travel. You know how a lot of babies go to sleep when you take them somewhere in the car? Not so with our precious Milo. I'm fairly certain he hates his carseat, and any time I tried to sit in the back next to him and console him, he cried and held his arms out to me like, "Why won't you get me out, Mommy?" Do 8-week old babies even really do that, or was I just imagining? There is nothing more heart-wrenching than listening to your baby cry, in the backseat all by himself, and not being able to do anything for him because you just stopped 10 minutes before to console him. And look. He even looked upset while he was sleeping (but still so ridiculously cute).
But I've realized something very important. I can't hold him every second. I can't always fix what's wrong the moment he starts to cry. In fact, I'm about to go back to work on Wednesday, so I can't even be near him every minute. OUCH. That's the part of being a mommy that genuinely hurts, really deep down. The part that makes you grit your teeth and furrow your eyebrows and squeeze him a little tighter while you have the chance.
And it's the part of you that says we are not going on another road trip any time soon because it's so darn good to be home.