Saturday 20 April 2013

All Day, Baby

I could talk about my daughter all day, every day. I just can't get enough of her. When I am around family I feel they would want to be captivated by her accomplishments and cuteness as well. If I am around others who I know have small children, I strongly want to share stories of our munchkins' antics and where they are in their development, as well as any parenting tips (how do I stop her throwing?).

Sometimes I have to let it go, though. I catch myself and think I am going overboard. I know we all love our children, but many don't share the intensity of my 24/7 infatuation. They either are better at hiding it or, conversely, they enjoy a break (ask me in a few years).

It reminds me of how I knew my husband was falling in love with me. He could think of nothing else. He couldn't stop talking about me. Apparently at that juncture, "Did you know that Lindy..." was on his lips frequently in my absence. He was smitten. And now I am smitten with his sprightly, spitting-image spawn.

Maybe it's from finally having my baby at 34, when I had ached to be a mom for so very long. Maybe it's how shockingly she resembles her father--his long torso, his face, his expressions, his posture--when I was unsure if we would be able to create our child ourselves. Maybe it is just my love for children and my fascination with their development. She's my little science experiment. Maybe it's how motherhood uses my strengths and interests--creativity, exploring, cooking (okay, the repeated burnt meals attest that cooking is not a strength, but I really enjoy it). Maybe it is just simply I love to talk but I am horribly awkward when it comes to keeping conversation going (or believing anyone would want to chat with me in the first place) and so this is an easy topic.

My little girl is 17 months and amazes me. Of course she copies everything, but it is astonishing how quickly words transfer from parrot status into her very own broadening vocabulary. Yesterday she said excuse me to the dog. Two different times she identified the colour yellow. She is so close to counting to ten. She has a list of songs or rhymes she can almost do herself. Like "Tick Tock, Tick Tock, I'm a Little Cuckoo Clock" or "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star".

We were in the grocery store at the checkout. Pink's song Try was on the radio. As the chorus played through, my daughter listened and then joined. She chimed, in a beautiful tone, "Try, try, try". The cashier asked if she was going to be a rocker. I wondered if she'd ever even heard the song before. She definitely enjoys her music.

Last night she danced to a live band at a fundraiser (apparently she's a fan of the steel drums). I took her with me even though many mom friends left their children at home to enjoy a night out. It definitely took away from my ability to have a conversation. My daughter was so very busy. But I really delighted in the evening and the food and the bit she let me spend with the company (every time we went back to the table she would say "nooo!"). We finally left at 10:15pm, after dancing until her eyes would need toothpicks to hold them open. Tired, sore momma. Very tired baby.

One day she is going to roll her eyes and say, "No mom, we want to go without you." So until then I'll enjoy her company. One day I am going to hound her to get just a few measly details of her day's happenings. So until then I will contentedly drown myself in her exhilarating yet exhausting presence. One day I am going to miss her being right there. So until then I will hold her very close.

Of course, I pray our relationship will remain strong, but "our" life will eventually split as she finds "her" life. Like her big sister did. I only met her when she was 15 but it was still difficult to give her the keys to the car. To watch her graduate. To let her pick her mate and get married. To release her as she moved away. We'd love to tell her what to do and protect her and be there for everything, but she is her own, individual person. And her little sister is her own developing person, too.

I'll relish each and every moment I get.

And if you ever want to hear about her, just ask.




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