Thursday, February 6, 2014
I love the way you smile.
The fact that you smile bigger after you poop then when I walk into the room is something we'll work on.
I love the way you snuggle into the space between my shoulder and my neck.
Can't wait until the day where you do it more because you love me and less because you're scared of trees.
I love your chubby rosy cheeks.
I pray it doesn't mean that I'm making you fat and somehow participating in the childhood obesity trend. (you know us moms, we worry)
I love your sweet coos and your desire to take part in conversations.
I wish you could maybe sit a few conversations out or at least stop participating at such a high decibel, I promise we hear you even when you're very quiet.
I love the way you rub your eyes when you get tired.
It's really too bad that it makes me feel a little like a bad parent every single time because I once read that babies that rub their eyes are overtired and parents missed vital cues.
I love that I'm your favorite.
But there are days when I pray to God that you please please please learn to like someone else.
I love watching you discover new things.
I wish all those new things didn't immediately go into your mouth.
I love dressing you and admiring your insane levels of cuteness.
It makes me cringe a little when I catch sight of us in the mirror and realize that I subconsciously made us match. I never wanted to be THAT parent.
I love watching you bond with your siblings.
I keep hoping it will happen more when mommy needs a nap and less when mommy asks siblings to do chores.
I love your curiosity.
Also, it scares the hell of me.
I love watching you sleep.
I can't wait til I start to have a clue when that will be.
I love watching you grow and change.
I hate how often I check the development guidelines to see if your "on track." I also hate being a walking cliche as I go around saying, she's growing too fast, where's my baby?" Bipolar much?
I love your baby smell.
Your diaper smell, not so much.
I love watching you with your daddy.
I secretly worry that you'll like him more than me.
I love your perfect little hands.
I don't understand how they are always dirty.
I love your blossoming personality.
I hope I'll still like you when you're a teenager.
Most of all baby, I love you.
Except that one time you screamed for 4 hours straight, then I considered adoption.