I love my baby boy. I can not help myself. I love to kiss and kiss and kiss those deliciously chubby cheeks. I love to watch him walk like a wicked (as in "super cool") combination of a drunken sailor and John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. That Cam Man puffs out his chest and struts his stuff....shortly before walking into the wall! I love all the faces Camren makes--from surprised to delighted to ticked off to contemplative. His goofy, cheesy grin (with that gorgeous Chiclet tooth) is so stinkin' cute it makes my toes tingle! I love his big, pretty eyes--light brown, like melted milk chocolate--and I love the swirl of olive green, right in the middle of all that brown, that circles his pupils. Obviously, I spend a lot of time staring into those dreamy eyes. I look right into his eyes, and he looks right back into mine, and I tell him I love him. I swear to you, I can see a light twinkle in those eyes whenever I coo my sweet sentiments.
This may sound kooky, but I came to a powerful realization just a couple of days ago. While cleaning out some drawers, I happened to find a disc of photos I didn't know I had. Curious about the contents, I popped it into the computer and began perusing the folders. I found a picture of Cam and I. I don't think I had ever seen the picture before. I do not remember it being taken. As I looked at it, this overwhelming feeling of warmth and light and joy and "mommy love" came over me. Clarity struck my mind like sunlight's rays on a large body of water, and the result was dazzling. I knew. I just knew that Cam knew me...In that picture, and even now. He knows I am his mother. He knows he rocks my whole world.
And I know--with surety, with conviction--that he loves me too.