As I sit on my living room floor, assembling toys by the fire, accompanied by nature's soundtrack of heavy rain falling on the back deck, I find myself reflecting upon days gone by. Catherine's first Christmas has come and gone and I am once again reminded of how fleeting time is; how it refuses to stand still for even a moment, how it is rushing by me, grabbing my daughter's hand, and teaching her to stand on her own.
Somehow, a year has passed since my stocking donned a button that read "Future Mom" and my presents were wrapped in pink ribbons instead of red. A year has passed since I received the pink and green mobile that would set the tone for my baby girl's nursery. A year ago, she was an excuse to eat too much dressing and three desserts, a bump under my dress, a nameless daughter, granddaughter, niece, lovingly referred to as Baby Girl, Splash Mountain, and Lil' Sparkle.
A year later, she sits in my lap in her Christmas pajamas, playing with a purple puppy who knows her name. She stands to play her new piano. She crawls after a dog that walks. She giggles among an avalanche of paper and bows. She grabs ornaments from the lowest branches of the tree and unwraps gifts that don't necessarily belong to her. She is a perfect blend of Husband and me, wide eyed, drinking in the magic of the holiday with a three-toothed smile.
To watch her is simply majestic. To see Christmas morning through her eyes is sublime.
I know I'll never remember all the details of every day spent with her. I kick myself for not recording every second of our lives, making dvds and photo albums of each passing month, because I know I won't remember exactly how many walks we took or the words to the silly songs I made up at bath time. I know I won't remember the way she screeches and squeals in between "tst, tst, tst" and "da da da" sounds. I won't remember which presents she got each Christmas, but, it is impossible to forget the smile and the laugh that come from this tiny little girl. It is impossible to forget the weight of her in my lap or the sloppiness of her open mouth kiss on my cheek. It is impossible to forget the feeling of joy she brings just by being in the room.
She is a constant reminder of life's simple pleasures. She is my life's simple pleasure.
This Christmas far surpassed any which preceded. It was better than the time I got a Barbie Dream House and even better than the year we got a puppy. This Christmas, my world revolved around an 18 pound girl in footed pajamas with an affinity for shiny wrapping paper. And as I watched her soak up the energy of the day, I secretly wished I could wrap her up and keep her little, my perfect ten month old with the three toothed smile.
I know I'll never remember all the details of every day spent with her. I kick myself for not recording every second of our lives, making dvds and photo albums of each passing month, because I know I won't remember exactly how many walks we took or the words to the silly songs I made up at bath time. I know I won't remember the way she screeches and squeals in between "tst, tst, tst" and "da da da" sounds. I won't remember which presents she got each Christmas, but, it is impossible to forget the smile and the laugh that come from this tiny little girl. It is impossible to forget the weight of her in my lap or the sloppiness of her open mouth kiss on my cheek. It is impossible to forget the feeling of joy she brings just by being in the room.
She is a constant reminder of life's simple pleasures. She is my life's simple pleasure.
This Christmas far surpassed any which preceded. It was better than the time I got a Barbie Dream House and even better than the year we got a puppy. This Christmas, my world revolved around an 18 pound girl in footed pajamas with an affinity for shiny wrapping paper. And as I watched her soak up the energy of the day, I secretly wished I could wrap her up and keep her little, my perfect ten month old with the three toothed smile.
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