I Blinked

And in that instant, you grew. Every part of you—from fingernails to feet—is changing. That baby face, those tiny feet, your chubby little legs….in a moment, it seems, you have morphed into a perfect little man child. Gone are the baby peach fuzz, the tiny fingers, the little squeaks you used to make to let me know you were happy. Now you enter the room each morning with a hearty YAWP of happiness, and I marvel in you every single day.

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I blinked.

And in that fraction of a second, you became a toddler. No more long, lazy days spent napping in the swing. Oh, no! For there are great adventures to be had, new foods to try, new life lessons to experience. You are learning so much and so quickly. And watching your eyes light up with every single skill learned (Bongos! Clapping! Speaking! WALKING!) brings a joy into my life that I’ve never know before.

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I blinked.

And in that infinitesimal fraction of time, you have morphed into your Daddy’s best friend. You laugh together, and play together, and nap together; you are two peas in a pod. I see you now, sitting in his lap, watching him play video games and it is incredibly simple to picture you playing along in a few years time. You light up at the sight of him, you laugh at his silly antics, and you already emulate him, even if he doesn’t see it yet. The two of you own every square inch of my heart.

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I blinked.

And in that half a second, you have become my entire world. I know what you’re thinking, what you want, what you need, in the seconds before you do. Your smile is as familiar as my own, your laughter is the soundtrack of my day. You are my constant companion, my  pal, my heart. Sometimes, looking at you, I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders: to make sure you feel absolutely safe and loved, to send you into the world with kindness and gratitude, to teach you how to navigate this scary world with bravery and smarts.  But I know we will be ok, little one. Because you are miraculous, and I’m convinced you can do anything.

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I blinked.

And suddenly, we are three. It all happened so seamlessly, so effortlessly. It’s like you were always with us, even during the “before,” when we wished for you while simultaneously thinking you might only be a dream. Your Daddy and I  speak your name more times in a day than we think our own, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. You truly complete us. Our son.

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As I watch you climb, and swim, and talk, and laugh, and walk; as we continue hitting every milestone and surpassing everyone’s expectations; as we approach (all too quickly) your first birthday, I can’t help but marvel at you. You are so smart. You are so much more than you can possibly imagine. And you continue to amaze me, every single day.

Something tells me as time continues to pass, as the days morph into weeks and months, that I’m going to wish for these moments back. If only I had the ability to freeze time, my little one, I would do it almost every day: in the moments you are sleeping most peacefully, when you are laughing so hard your little belly shakes, when you curl your hand onto my face and say “Mama.” But since I can’t, and those moments will continue to pass us by, I’ll keep living in these moments with you. Because even though it feels like I simply blinked and suddenly, you’re eleven months old, there’s not a single moment of those months that I don’t remember, cherish, and adore.