11 March 2015
I don't want to forget this.
The way she clings to my shoulders when I pick her up.
The sadness in her eyes when I walk away, even if just for a moment.
The curls around her ears, especially fresh out of a bath and smelling like heaven.
Her satisfied smirk after nursing in the mornings.
The curl of her toes when she's concentrating on picking something up.
Her excitement at my opening the door on her nursery, post-nap.
How big her eyes can get, full of tears.
The serious looks she can get while babbling with a book in her lap.
Her quizzical eyebrows and concerted frown when she's confused.
Her silly little giggle, mostly when she's being tickled.
The numerous times every morning that she wiggles and kicks me in the face to nose-dive off the bed.
Her amazement at cars driving past the front door.
The contented stream of words she has when we take a walk in the nice weather.
Her ability to pick up the only (I swear, only) piece of fuzz left on the floor and quickly shove it in her mouth.
The way her feet inevitably fly up in the air when she laughs her belly-laugh.
How she can't help but want to turn onto her tummy mid-diaper change (no matter how annoying it is).
The wrinkles on her belly from growing so darn fast.
The delight she finds in her bathtub friends, Sir Lancelot and Lieutenant Dan - both rubber ducks.
No matter how frustrating, or seemingly mundane, or tiring this whole motherhood gig can be at times, I don't want to forget a single moment of it.