Life flows with fleeting moments and I wish I could capture and burn them all into my memory.
I wish I could remember, in every sense of the word, what Thomas is right now: the way he smells when I breathe him in – you know, because one day that will just be socially unacceptable and maybe not quite as pleasant; the way his mouth pouts with glistening drool – not sure that would be so cute later on either; the way his eyes search the room for me moments before his whole body shakes into a frantic panic (he still needs me!); his oh-so-adorable face-smile that makes his eyes turn into half-moons; the way his little fingers wrap around my finger and proceed to move into his mouth… really I could go on and on.
And here I am again in this phase of unconditional and utter love. I just don’t know what to do with myself other than smother him with kisses and squeeze him as hard as my conscience will allow me to. While Craig was in the store with Isabel tonight I just sat in the car and stared at him. Stared and stared and stared at him. For, alas, one day I will forget. And no matter how hard I will try, pictures will do me no justice. I know this to be true, as…
…lately, I have been glancing back at “old” pictures of Isabel with futile attempts to remember what her baby-ness was like. These days she will say, “can you hold me like when I was a baby?” and I will pick all 36 pounds of her up into my weakening arms and rock her back and forth while we together sing, “Rockabye Baby.” Yet, somehow, this does not help me to remember. Instead I am carrying this big girl and I think to myself, “what happened to baby Isabel? Where is the little squeaker who had not yet developed such a poignant attitude towards me?” These past two and almost a half years have just been a string of fleeting moments that I can barely hold on to. It’s hard enough to keep current with her tireless happy soul, let alone remember the past. Tireless soul, you ask?
Oh yes, TIRELESS. Today, for example, no talk of a nap and just one activity after the other in my half-zombie mode (today was one of those days) and a barrage of questions, stories and “remembers.” While Craig was at basketball I visited my friend, Beth, out in Pasadena and realized I was dominating the conversation, speaking a thousand words a minute and jumping from one topic to the next without finishing a single thought. In the middle I thought to myself, “Beth must think I’m nuts!” Then I realized that I’m probably super excited to have an adult conversation and in a hurry to get my thoughts out before getting interrupted, cut off and forgotten. Phew! Just writing it wore me out. 🙂 And to top it all off, her bed time has managed to slide to somewhere between 10 and 11. Ack!
And still, I would not change any of these moments for the world.
Lucky for me, I now have a second turn to savor the smells of milk spit up onto my shoulder (he does that quite a bit less than Isabel did thanks to his very disciplined sense of self-regulation), take in the innocuous aromas of baby milk-poop, and to kiss a permanent dent into those very fluffy and pliable cheeks. Oh how I LOVE his cheeks! I will live in baby-ness again, loving every minute of it (even though my body screams at me, “SLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!” Eventually. 🙂
And one more thing, I must take notes. So I shall begin tonight:
Thomas loves to suck his thumb and soothes himself to sleep.
Isabel’s currently favorite song: “Let’s go fly a kite!” — Up to a-mos-phere!
While not singing at the Heffernan performances and resorting to raptor calls instead, NOW she sings “Jingle Bells” and “Rudolph” religiously, every day.
Isabel still loves Thomas. And ears.
She calls her new little doll Candy.
She sweats like I’ve seen no other human sweat before.
Sorry, Thomas still does not do much other than eat, burp, toot, poop, sleep and cry. He is holding himself up better, though. 🙂
And while Isabel was our Squeaker, Thomas is our Squealer.
Christmas pictures to follow (or you can check my picasa.)