Buddy's Mom2015 [work] 【Full Version】

October 26, 2023

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you know that 2015 was the year of the sippy cups, the year of the endless puffs snack, and the year my son—my little "Buddy"—was three years old. Three is a magic, chaotic age. It’s the year they stop being toddlers and start becoming little people. It’s the year of the "why" phase, the tantrum in the grocery store checkout line, and the first time they say "I love you" without being prompted. buddy's mom2015

One day, that boy won’t need you to put the band-aid on. He’ll do it himself. One day, he’ll stop calling you "Mommy" in public and switch to a curt "Mom." One day, you’ll miss the sticky handprints on the sliding glass door. October 26, 2023 If you’ve been following this

I wasn’t looking for a person named Buddy. I was looking for me . It’s the year of the "why" phase, the

I remember scoffing at the time. Buddy’s mom. I had a name. I had a career. I had opinions on foreign policy and a favorite indie band. I wasn’t just an appendage to a three-foot-tall person.