Dressy Bessy and the Time Warp

How is it that my daughter is already dressing herself? I mean, granted, she also peed all over my dining room and takes potty training as an elective swimming sport, but seriously? This weekend we are converting her crib to a toddler bed, and while I am fascinated at the speed of her growth, I am terrified I might miss something.

My 10 week year old son (I still am not used to saying son, and honestly, in the midst of all that goes on I fear he is still not in the "terribly interesting" stage even in the face of all his cuteness) is already sitty up in a Bumbo chair. He is 13pounds and already developing an opinion about the world.

My oldest niece just went off to college this Sunday; Monday I used Skype for the first time to talk to her and see her room. What a difference from when I went to college: we wrote letters by hand, and the only way anyone saw pictures was if I mailed them physically home, and we still used phones that attached to walls to dial out our homesickness. NOTHING happened in real time and certainly not in pictures.

Finally, I am somehow in the last two weeks of my maternity leave. Where the heck did the time go and who put a life that has been relatively uneventful and non-exciting on warp speed?

I guess the lesson here is to try and live in the moment while you can because they move so quickly that we miss what we don't embrace, and also, just to write stuff down as much as possible because there is so much happening at the same time that there is no other way you are possibly going to remember anything.

The other lesson of the day: cleaning up pee with a paper towel is pretty ineffectual.

Mommy-daughter adventures

I write this to remind myself, at later times when I really need a good reminder, of my adventures with Sydney.  Documentation is especially important as my days are numbered: my maternity leave is drawing to a close and my life will again belong less to kiddos and more to corporate america (where I will gratefully work to provide for the aforementioned and try not to complain about it) so as far as I am concerned the dust bunnies can wait.

Today's jaunt was a trip to Phillip's Park in Aurora, Illinois.  It was just the two of us; my husband was home (sick) with the baby.  The place was beautiful: they have sunken gardens, gorgeous flowers, a zoo, and a forested area that holds a gigantic playground.  There are some cool animals, a splash pad for the children and huge, beautiful trees as far as the eye can see.

For my daughter it was wonderland, and her delight was palpable.

From her excitement and constant chatter in the car to her squeals when she saw the bald eagles, my little one sees the magic I sometimes struggle to access.  In front of a giant flower display she still notices an ant; near the preening peacocks she saw a dancing monarch and felt compelled to chase it.  She really *sees* things and demands you try and take notice too.

She does so many things that crack me up - said goodbye to a napkin on the ground, warned a bunch of much older kids (they were climbing the rails of a toy bridge) to "be careful!" and " watch out" in a voice heavy with concern for them.  She ran ahead but kept a close eye on my location even as she carefully sized up the competition for the slides.  She turns for my reaction and acknowledgements as she dances a jig in the water feature, soaking her ice-cream splattered dress and sticky legs.

She is growing so darn fast.  Every day I fear I am missing something, terrified I will take something for granted and poof the time will be gone.  My little partner in crime with the brilliant smile and floppy hat wants only my time and attention right now and I know how fleeting that is even when I am too stupid to appreciate it. 

That is why I sit here in the dark, typing this entry into my smartphone instead of waiting for a later time.  It has taken me 39 years to realize that there is no such thing and if I don't burn these images into my brain right now I will lose them to the vagaries of time and they are too precious to lose. 

I love you Sydney.  Thank you for this wonderful day.