Some days, she is the opposite of easy.
Her mouth is rebelliously happy as she repeatedly says the newly formed word: No. Other times it is “No, no, no, no, no!” It is a gamble if she is going to hold my hand on our daily walk. The very blackberries that she ate gregariously yesterday will be enthusiastically rejected for today’s breakfast. And then our nighttime routine that she has joyfully abided by for months on end, will all of a sudden be rejected in the blink of an eye. But yet, I can physically feel the preciousness of this moment, how her little features will never be as innocent as they are now. I know this time is fleeting. Although I am trying my most-stubborn best to be in the moment and enjoy it, I already miss it. I already want it to happen again and I just want time to stop.
A few days ago, she woke up sick. I walked into her bedroom only to be shocked by vomit caked about her crib. She and I both were traumatized from this experience — personally for me because I never heard her retching to begin with. This previous lazy Sunday became an unplanned sick day, one where I spent the whole day, cuddled up with her on the couch. It didn’t escape my attention that one day she won’t let me do this, that she won’t need momma cuddles when she is sick. I soaked up each moment, not at all bothered to have a leach attached to my side. I tried to play games to make her drink fluids, which she was previously denying, and wondered how many episodes of Bluey we could watch until she fell asleep.
This must be why parents have multiple children.
These feelings of melancholy didn’t affect me a year ago, or even a year before that. I was strictly trying to survive the newborn phase, not because she was a difficult baby, but instead because of the culture shock that was felt from the transition of just married life to parent life. Now that I’ve caught my breath, that I am getting a full night of sleep, it’s so much easier to enjoy this special time. I am amazed at the human experience, how she is already speaking phrases with multiple words to me (where is she learning this?!). As I’m sure most parents feel, I am certain I am raising an advanced genius and she will wow us all with the intelligence she is now displaying.
When 2020 began, I had found a new app, called 1SecondEveryday, that easily allows you to document one second of your day, which of course would end with 365 seconds of the year. What a cool way to document my daughter growing up. Combined that with quarantine and 2020 pitching itself in a dumpster fire, you would think that I would have easily accomplished this task. But no shut-down orders could truly help me remember to do this every single day, all though I definitely accomplished it more than fifty percent of the time. If you’re a momma like me and wanting to document every possible precious second, downloading this app and making your one-second video is a great way to do so. I’ve included my 2020 example below if you’d like to get a true feel for what the end product reveals.
I’m sure it will not shock you to hear I haven’t found the magic elixir to stop her from growing. I wouldn’t mind a life remote where I could hit pause. But here I am, trying to soak up every interaction, burn it in my memory, or when all else fails, whipping out my camera to try to record it all. When she accidentally says a curse word when trying to say “walk”, it’s something I can’t help but document. I’m with you though, and I promise to try to stop holding on to the moment, and instead just enjoy.