I don’t want to forget: the way she whispers meow, meow when she’s pretending to be a kitty.
I don’t want to forget: that she stomps around the house sobbing BOOM BOOM BOOM and blowing raspberries whenever she gets mad.
I say, “mmmm, her hair smells so good after her bath.”
we both take a sniff.
he says, “very good, but I prefer it after a couple of days when she’s nice and ripe.”
mmmm, baby hair.
I don’t want to forget: how ever since she was a few days old, she has laughed in her sleep.
I look at the little fellow’s newborn onesies and booties and I always think, can a baby really ever be that small? when I hold up his clothes next to his sister’s, they look impossibly tiny.
my aunts gave him his first blankets and oh, when I picked up that soft handmade blue blanket and hugged it up in my arms, I swear I could already feel him wrapped up inside.
sometimes it really hits me that there is a tiny little person growing and growing in my belly. a tiny person with eyes and teeny tiny fingers and kissable cheeks and
it almost makes me swoon to think of those tiny little feet.
there is just something about baby feet and baby toes that is so delicious. and in just a few more months, those tiny tiny delicious feet are going to be HERE and I can nibble on them all day. all day!!
when my daughter was born, I couldn’t stop marveling over her tiny, tiny feet. I’d seen them on every ultrasound, stared at them for hours on the printouts and then they were here, real live baby feet for me to smooch. I’d gotten so many pairs of adorable little baby girl shoes and I couldn’t bear to put any of them on those tiny feet, I had to have them bare and ready for kissing at a moment’s notice.
there is just something about baby feet. and I’m getting a brand new pair attached to another altogether nommable baby just for smooching on. I really think I must be the luckiest person in the world. I really do.
christmas morning and the little girl is sleeping.
browsing ebay for vinyl for my new record player courtesy of my sweet husband.
leaning against the side of the bed and waiting for my gold glitter holiday nails to dry.
he finds a gray hair in my hair and pulls it out for my inspection.
“yup. that’s an actual gray hair.”
we sit by the bed and marvel at it. I’m turning thirty this year. and I’ve got my first gray hair.
my nails are still wet so he pushs the hair off my neck and fixes the clasp on the opal necklace he gave me for christmas years ago. before babies and gray hairs.