nothing new

I am always amazed at how the week goes by and nothing new ever really happens. I almost dread when people ask 'What's new?' because it's been kind of on repeat for months now. Nothing is really ever new. She eats Cheerios with milk. She said "up". It certainly doesn't make for good small talk. She is in her routine, her groove - finally - and we just replay it over and over again at the start of each day. It is quite comforting, actually. Comforting in that just-out-of-the-dryer feeling and your favourite t-shirt. Comforting in the sense that I feel like I know what I'm doing now and I'm not just flying by the seat of my pants. What does that even mean, anyways? But with every new day, she seems to be a teeny bit better at whatever she is doing than yesterday. More words spoken. She points to the ball in the book. She makes the noise of a cat. The little things are the ones that you'll forget.

in my arms

I was rocking her back to sleep in my arms this morning. It’s a desperate measure on my part to get a little more sleep. Kind of like a snooze button except you never really know how much more sleep you will get. Today I didn’t fare too badly. After the rocking and crouching beside the crib for what felt like an eternity, I think I managed another 30 minutes. In my arms she nuzzles for a cuddle, her eyes closed, all warm and cosy. She must feel so secure and loved. These are her mothers’ arms. They are my arms. They are gentle, strong and can make her feel better anytime and anywhere. They protect her. I have the arms that will forever make someone happy, comforted and loved. Sometimes she doesn’t even wait to get to me before making a running dive, knowing that my arms will be there to catch her. I’ll always be there to catch her. I guess that’s what being a mother is all about. She will fall and stumble, but no matter what, I’ll be there. Even now, a hug from my own mother melts away the problems I have even for a moment. A mother’s love is forever and I never realized that until, well until I became a mother too.

the morning that was

I look around and see the remnants of the morning that was. The last tower still standing without being toppled, an empty toy basket ready for her to get into and the cardboard box and lids that have provided so much amusement since we found them. I had a moment of clarity this morning as we walked in the wagon up and down the street, the rendition of Baby Beluga growing tired, the huge maple leaf waving in her hand. This is really what its all about. A crisp fall day and a walk. There are times I miss the hustle and bustle of office work life. I miss the camaraderie, the challenge, the work and even the complaining about work. But on days like this, walking and singing with my daughter seems like the only thing I was ever meant to do. Now as she sleeps, I flip through a magazine, sit for a quiet lunch. The dishes are still piling up and the toys aren’t going to walk themselves back into the basket. Maybe in a Disney movie they would. I see her handprints on the walls and think of how my husband will irk at their sight. He’ll want to wash them and all I want to do is look at them and wonder how her hands got so dirty. And during her nap, I take a deep breath, look at the path of toys, books and shredded magazines she’s left behind, and I miss her. This afternoon holds promise of new adventures. Well not really new, we do almost the same thing each day. A tickle, a laugh, some snacks to eat, some milk to drink. Maybe a swing in the park. Will she even remember these times we spend together? Likely not. But I certainly will. Every moment that passes she gets bigger, smarter, older. I’ll always try to remember these days of the huge maple leaf in the fall, my mixed up words of Baby Beluga, the calls to go up, out, and down. I’ll cherish each moment we spend together and look back at the hundreds of photos I’ve taken, the fingerprints on the walls and the big brown eyes of my first baby.