Right now I am trying to type with one hand, while wrangling my almost 9th month old who is on my lap trying to hurl her entire body at the keyboard with my other arm. *hold on a sec.*
Okay, she is now happily banging on a pot with a wooden spoon and babbling at the top of her lungs.
It seems like yesterday and it seems like an eternity ago.
She was so tiny, and snuggly, and STILL, and she slept all the time. I could wear her around all day long in her moby and it felt like I was carrying nothing save for the bundle of warmth, that newborn smell, and the sweetest sighs. little koala.
Last night I just HAD to hold my friend's baby who is just two months younger than Adoration, but that two months difference made her feel so much more BABY. For a split-second, I thought "Michelle Duggar doesn't have it so bad." Okay, well I don't want to have 19 kids but I see why people keep wanting more.
Oh the glorious, bittersweet reality of motherhood. Time goes by so much faster now.
I hear it all the time. In the doctor's office, in the grocery store, on walks around the neighborhood. A longing look, followed by a "I miss those days."
Little reminders from the older and wiser to soak it all in.
My friend Erin has an on-going joke with one of her friends. They talk about how the childhood of our kids are probably some of the best years of our life, or as they put it, "the best damn years of our life." Whenever they are in the midst of a trying moment with their kids, they will text each other the two-word phrase "best damn."
Erin was telling us how her friend had 2 sick kids and a newborn. In the middle of the night Erin received the text, "Best damn." Really, it's a reminder to ourselves.
Sometimes in the midst of kids throwing up in the middle of the night, dealing with a tantrum, or a poopy blow-out in a restaurant, we just need to remind ourselves that yes, these are the best damn years of our life." Best damn, indeed.