Tonight

It's a huge cliche in the blogging world.  Writing a lasting and deep message about appreciating the time you have with your kids.  Not letting a moment slip by.  Enjoying those cuddles.  Savoring those messy fingerprints.  Marking each little milestone.  Because they'll all be gone.  They'll grow up and leave and you'll miss those times.

And I hate being cliche, but sometimes the weight of it all just overwhelms me and I have to put it somewhere or I'll burst.  Plus, what else is there to write about?  Vaccines?  Um, no thanks.  You thought there were wars over breast/bottle feeding, CIO or cosleep, WAH/SAH/Working mothers?  Whatever, that's nothing compared to the seething hatred that comes out over vaccinations.  You're not changing my mind, I'm not changing your mind, so I'm just going to leave that one alone.  Pretty sure the second civil war is going to erupt over that topic.

But I digress...

I climb the stairs to find Ainsley in my bed.  I stand there and stare at her for a moment.  This happens.  Probably once a week she makes her way to our room when Freddie falls asleep before her. She still hates to sleep alone.  She is exactly the same baby I brought home 7.5 years ago.

I turn off the light and climb in next to her.  I close my eyes and remember night after night of holding a tiny baby as we both fell asleep.  Night after night of spooning with a toddler, preschooler, then child.  She'll be 8 in July.  There are more nights like this behind me than in front of me.

During the day, we are knocking on the door of the tween/preteen years.  We're not there, but we're kind of on our way.  Sometimes there are tears because she feels wronged.  Sometimes she prefers to pretend she's out with friends than with her parents.  Sometimes there are slammed doors and stomps up the stairs. Sometimes she talks about imaginary boyfriends. Sometimes there are wishes to be an only child or have the life of a friend.  Sometimes I handle these emotions well, sometimes I do not.

But here in the dark, in my bed, she is still my baby.  That sweet little girl with a big heart and huge soul.  A giggle that warms my heart and a smile that lights my world.  She still hugs me every day.  She still calls me mommy...most of the time.  She still likes to cuddle with me when she sleeps.  But I know the days of shrugging off kisses and eye rolls are right around the corner.

So tonight I won't move her back. Tonight I'll smell her little girl hair like I smelled her bald baby head.  Tonight I'll hold her long fingers like I held her pudgy hands.  Tonight I'll lay here and hold her and pretend that she'll be mine forever.

Those Girls

I am at my sister-in-law's wedding, sitting at my table, watching her bridesmaids own the dance floor.

I used to be one of those girls.  I used to drink and dance until the sun came up.  A wedding meant a party.  An opportunity to spend the evening with my friends drinking as much as possible until that last song seeped through the speakers.  Going out afterwards, refusing to end the celebration.  A gang of well dressed wedding guests descending on an already crowded bar. 

There are times that I look at my life and wonder how I got here.  Wasn't I just graduating from college?  Didn't I just meet Clif?  Don't I have amazing plans for this weekend?  Shouldn't I be thinking about a prom dress?

No.  The answer to all these questions is no.  I graduated from college so long ago, that on the eve of my graduation I was wearing overalls at the bar.  When was the last time you saw someone over the age of 2 wearing overalls? Clif and I have known each other for a decade. Yeah, that's 10 years. My weekends are no longer spent primping for a night out on the town.  Now I feel cool if I can stay awake for SNL.  The fact is, I am now closer to Ainsley's high school prom than I am to my own.

How did that happen?  How did I wake up one morning middle-aged, married, mother of two?  Life spins by out of control.  I feel like I'm missing things, forgetting things.  Sometimes I get so caught up in the idea of preserving every single moment, that years just whiz by unnoticed. 

So, I sit and watch these girls.  Watch them dancing and singing and laughing.  Their wine glasses rocking to the beat of the music.  The amber liquid coming dangerously close to splashing over the edge.  Those days for me are so vivid, yet so far away.  I can remember some of those moments with precise clarity, but in the same breath I can't remember the last time I danced the night away with a drink in my hand.

There are times when I long for that.  Wish for a carefree day.  A day spent lounging on the couch watching reality TV.  An evening passed with friends over a long dinner.  A sunrise watched after a long night of silliness and youth.

But...

I sit, with my small boy perched on my shoulder.  His slow, deep breaths confirming his slumber.  I watch my young daughter twirling in the middle of these girls.  Her blond locks flapping against her cheeks.

And honestly, I don't miss it.  I don't miss those nights.  Now I have patty-cake and peek-a-boo.  Dress up and dance class.  Morning songs and bedtime routines.  Dora and Raffi.  Stained onsies and tiny socks.  I wouldn't trade any of it to be one of those girls again.

And one day...maybe soon, maybe years from now...those girls will sit at a wedding, watching others and they'll smile thinking the same thing.