#nostalgicmom

These days, I’m nostalgic.

My sweet baby girl is now 10 months old, and every day is a new adventure for her.  In the last week she has learned how to turn on and off the tv with the remote, climb in and out of her rocking chair, work the recliner, pet the dog in a manner that doesn’t include pulling her hair, take 2 steps without anyone holding her hand, and say hi very distinctly. I sit in complete wonderment most days.  I wish I learned tasks this quickly.  I could rule the world.

I don’t even know how we got to 10 months.  It really does seem like yesterday I brought her red-faced, tiny self home all curled up in a blue fuzzy blanket.  It seems like I just learned how to nurse her to make her cries of hunger, loneliness, boredom, and aches go away.  It feels like she shouldn’t be making such vast advancements because I don’t feel like I am advancing at all.  In fact, I feel like time is standing still in my land, while her time is set on warp speed.  So, I sit in the land of nostalgia because I don’t want to forget a moment spent in her awesome presence.

I remember thinking how fragile she was, how ridiculously beautiful she was, and how she had the sweetest little hands that she would lovingly wrapped around my fingers.  Now, she’s this rough and tumble (dare I say) pre-toddler, who is drop dead gorgeous, and uses those gentle hands to pull out my hair, and destroy everything she touches in the house.  I gave up chasing her around the house, and just bought gates to contain her.  I let her do whatever she wants with her toys because I like watching the mess she creates.  I spend my evenings picking it all up after she goes to bed, and smile, because one day I won’t have her magical land to pick up.  There will be no more Babs, Foxy baby, and Wolfy.  They will be replaced by clothes, makeup, and jewelry belonging to an angst filled teenager that I will inevitably butt heads with.

She is my tiny tornado.  She is both my lack of sleep, and my shot of espresso.  She is the reason I am grumpy at 4am when I have to feed her, and the reason I smile the moment I turn the corner and see her reaching for me.  She can spin me from pure frustration to pure joy with the flash of her smile.  And to think, that just a few short months ago, she was a completely different tiny person.  She needed me for everything.  She didn’t like anyone else but me.  She was all mine to cuddle and love on.  Now, she’s this social, independent, little person who is stubborn, doesn’t really want to be held, and sort of ignores me.  And I just smile.  Because I can see me in her.  She may look like her daddy, but she sure does have my strong will and determination.

Little miss Emma, 10 months have flown by.  My heart is sad to see you move on to another stage of life, but so excited to watch you grow.  Just grow a little slower for me, so I can soak it all in just a little longer.