I woke up after 3 very bad hours of sleep this morning with what I remember to be a great idea for a post. I had the best of intentions to write it but alas, it seems like yet again if I don’t write something down I completely forget about it. To my recollection it was the answer to all the lame, boring drivel I’ve been (painstakingly slow at) delivering lately. I’m in a funk I guess. I won’t talk about how busy I am, AGAIN, because seriously, I’m boring myself. (But more later about how I’m about to get busier… and happier… and probably way more tired.)**
Anyway… this morning.
This morning was spent sitting at the breakfast table cheering as an almost-22-month old clapped and danced in the kitchen, stomping her feet with jubilation that can only be imagined by parents of used-to-be 22 month olds.
Studying her perfect pink smile, her rosy apple cheeks upturned in delight, her eyes blue and sparkling while the light dances from above. Those little hands furiously slapping together in the most nonrhythmic rhythm you’ve ever seen. Blond curls that turn darker everyday bouncing on her shoulders.
Tiny feet furiously pounding the cold tile right alongside her father’s great big feet. The look on her face as she ran laps around and around the kitchen. The shouts of joy as her father ran with her. The breathless “Go! Go! Go!” that emanated from her mouth as we all ran together.
I want to remember these moments and the indescribable feelings they bring for the rest of my life.
She is perfection.
**Based upon texts and comments received within hours of this post, I realize that this very vague statement may have given some of you the wrong impression. I am NOT, in fact, pregnant. That I know of. Give me some time.
After all this talk about getting pregnant, what do you mean you’re going to talk more LATER about the “I’m about to get busier… and happier… and probably way more tired”??? C’mon! The suspense is awful!
Thanks for clearing up the pregnancy thing, that’s the first thing I thought of.
I remember a little blond baby who used to ride her pony and say go, go! Her daddy would clap furiously with delight as this daughter rode with the wind (aka daddy breath) blowing back her long blond silk. Oh, remember this days. For too soon, other things crowd in the way of memory…. but eventually returns when you stare into the eyes of a grandbaby. Children are truly a gift to all who love them! Nona loves Avelyn… so much!
This is a cruel, mean thing that you are doing to us by making us wait.
Oh, and this is the first response I’ve typed since being able to SEE!