My Maggie just cried in her little crib about those cruel teeth persistently pushing through sore baby gums. I went to her room and sang "hush little baby" and looked at those sweet closed eyes with beautiful long lashes, clutching her lovie and drifting to dreamland. She's beautiful. She is my baby. She's also getting big. She's establishing a will of her own and using every means she has to communicate that will to me. She's curious, she's a climber, she's a creator and a tornato. She loves pearls and purses and babies and doing everything like her big sister. She laughs and squeals and giggles endlessly... until she can hardly breathe. She sees when I'm sad or disappointed and bends her face so she can see mine and plant a kiss on my cheek. She's had her first, second, third and fourth tantrum of her life this week, and I know we're nearing two years. I want to bottle this "now." She's not a baby, she's not yet a big girl. Her nails are pink because mine are pink and I can't refuse those blue eyes looking up at me holding the polish and wiggling her fingers.
She's my sweet little Maggie with the strawberry blonde hair.
Sometimes I think that I love bedtime best, because I can get the kids snuggled down and I can relax after the long day.
...but in reality it's the mornings I love best. Those mornings that come too soon, peeking sunshine into my blurry eyes, hearing chantings of "mama, mama" from the next room.
When I look back to 21 months, my heart will be in love with the sounds of morning, the moments of dependence, the gazes of adoration and the perfectly chubby little feet that run everywhere they go.
xoxoxo my Maggie. so very many hugs and kisses.