Mommy amnesia

I was telling Packrat just now that when I feed Muffin, I have to hold the hand that is away from my body. If I don't, he tugs at his ear furiously and yanks out hand fulls of hair. As is, my mother is threatening to shave him bald because he looks like an old man with generally short hair but long, girl like tufts on each side of his head.

Anyway, Packrat remarks that Evan did the same thing when he was a baby. I am surprised. I ask "Really?". As he nods, I am forced to admit that I really don't remember. And it's not the only thing I've forgotten. So many things that I tell Packrat about Muffin, he says the twins did it too. And I don't remember!

And this is after blogging about them quite religiously and being present for those early months.

It leads me to the conclusion that Mommy amnesia is a terrible and inadvertent thing to suffer from. It also reminds me to blog more about Muffin because he really is a sweetheart and I really don't want to forget any of the things that he's been up to.

So, in a bid to keep some memories for posterity, here he is, his first time in a high chair. His sibling's high chair actually.



















The cushion was placed at the back of him because little, wobbly him fell backwards and bumped his head on the back of the seat, leading to loud cries.

But generally, he was seemed thrilled to be so high up and showed it by yammering to us about it while his fingers explored the new plastic surface. They made me think of a pianist on the piano. Funny.



It makes me wistful to watch him because I know I miss so much when I'm not around. And because after him, that's it, all I'll have are these memories. And some might ask why not have another one then. The answer is because, that one will grow up too and it'll never end and it's that sort of thinking that will cause me to have to sell house and home and more importantly, my Kate Spade collection.


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