Gimme a Swig
Daddy and I are the only ones who know you as a baby. Other people know you, too, but we know you the best. Time goes by so quickly that soon we won't even remember what you were like. These are the things you do now:
Talk, talk, talk. One word, phrases, gibberish. I need mama. I need daddy. Paci. Blankie. Mama, play Play Do me? C'mon daddy, get in here! Mama, come'ere! Daddy color me? I go swimming. Swim diaper? Sips (swimsuit)?
The day you were born you came out silent and your deep blue eyes scanned the room, observing. You still have that observant look. I think it's part of your intellect, why you catch on to things so quickly. You really watch and study.
I start work in three weeks. I'm going back into the classroom. I've stayed home with you for two years. I am so lucky to have had that time with you. I think I'm ready for work, but I'm so sad that our time together is over.
I watched Tiger Woods win the British Open today. He sobbed after his winning stroke. His father died recently and he played the game for him. He misses him terribly. He said you only have one mom and one dad. He wished his father could've been there to see him win. I cried. I thought of you and how I would hate to leave you. If I died today, there are so many things I still have to tell you. So many memories of you I want you to know. You are too young to remember how you are now. But I know.
You love berries--raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, blueberries. You also like green olives, cheese, tomatoes, crackers. You like to push your baby doll's stroller around. You like to run around the house naked before your bath. All these things are very common for children your age. But I don't think you're common. You have an old soul. Samm's mom said that of you when she saw one of the first pictures I took of you after you were born. I think it means you've been here before. I wonder if you knew Grandma Jean before you came? When I show you pictures of her as a young girl, you immediately say Jean.
You are bossy, hollering directives like, "C'mon, mama!" as you grab my hand, pulling me in a direction. You have a sense of humor. You laugh at yourself. You will make up a word or sound and die laughing. You are very clingy, often wanting to be held. You are a one-person girl. If daddy gets you in the morning, you are all about him and don't want to have anything to do with me. Vice versa if I get you in the morning.
These are small swigs of your early life that I take down and hold in my heart. At night it hits me. I may forget. I have something to tell you. The house is quiet. You and daddy are asleep. The computer screen is so bright. I type it all out so I don't forget.
Talk, talk, talk. One word, phrases, gibberish. I need mama. I need daddy. Paci. Blankie. Mama, play Play Do me? C'mon daddy, get in here! Mama, come'ere! Daddy color me? I go swimming. Swim diaper? Sips (swimsuit)?
The day you were born you came out silent and your deep blue eyes scanned the room, observing. You still have that observant look. I think it's part of your intellect, why you catch on to things so quickly. You really watch and study.
I start work in three weeks. I'm going back into the classroom. I've stayed home with you for two years. I am so lucky to have had that time with you. I think I'm ready for work, but I'm so sad that our time together is over.
I watched Tiger Woods win the British Open today. He sobbed after his winning stroke. His father died recently and he played the game for him. He misses him terribly. He said you only have one mom and one dad. He wished his father could've been there to see him win. I cried. I thought of you and how I would hate to leave you. If I died today, there are so many things I still have to tell you. So many memories of you I want you to know. You are too young to remember how you are now. But I know.
You love berries--raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, blueberries. You also like green olives, cheese, tomatoes, crackers. You like to push your baby doll's stroller around. You like to run around the house naked before your bath. All these things are very common for children your age. But I don't think you're common. You have an old soul. Samm's mom said that of you when she saw one of the first pictures I took of you after you were born. I think it means you've been here before. I wonder if you knew Grandma Jean before you came? When I show you pictures of her as a young girl, you immediately say Jean.
You are bossy, hollering directives like, "C'mon, mama!" as you grab my hand, pulling me in a direction. You have a sense of humor. You laugh at yourself. You will make up a word or sound and die laughing. You are very clingy, often wanting to be held. You are a one-person girl. If daddy gets you in the morning, you are all about him and don't want to have anything to do with me. Vice versa if I get you in the morning.
These are small swigs of your early life that I take down and hold in my heart. At night it hits me. I may forget. I have something to tell you. The house is quiet. You and daddy are asleep. The computer screen is so bright. I type it all out so I don't forget.
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