Sunday, October 14, 2018

My Baby You'll Be

In the blink of an eye, you are nineteen months of spunk and charm, more of a little man and less of a baby. Though we've traded nursing and infant onesies for sippy cups and sneakers, there's something you should know- you're still my baby, and you always will be.

I love the way you love the world around you, how you take it in full steam ahead- learning more and more with every passing minute. I will forever cherish your little giggle and sweet smile, the way you say "Mama" and "Daddy" with such a desire to know where we both are at all times. I love when you climb up on the couch just to sit with me, or when you exclaim "icky" while we're cleaning up the kitchen together after dinner. I love when you drive your cars up and down the walls, eat "fishies" all day every day, and try on all of our shoes in the closet. I love when you play hide and seek behind the kitchen curtains: giggling while we "look" around the room for you, because you can't quite contain the joy you feel- and I hope that never changes.

There are times when I think of you as your sweet little seven-pound newborn self, and it's crazy that you're the same little one that I carried inside of me two years ago. I look at you now, truly in awe as you grow and learn new skills, marveling at the way the world is revealed to you a little more each day- whether you're discovering how to pick your nose or pick up your toys when you're done playing. I never knew that I'd get such joy from watching you go from a timid walker to one who runs up and down the sidewalk in complete confidence. I never knew how much I'd love decoding your special words for what you want, whether that's your tractor, milk, Grandma, outside, bubbles, or even just going for a ride in the truck. And I never knew just how much I'd love you- more than I ever even thought possible.

You're knocking on the door of being two, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm a bit nervous. I'm a little scared that my sweet, kind, funny little love is going to turn into a "terrible two" year old. Sure, you have your moments, and I know you will continue to, but honestly, you are such a joy. You make my whole day, with your big ole smile waiting for me to pick you up from daycare, or greeting me first thing in the morning while you're still all cuddly and snuggly in your sleepsack. I'd freeze you in this sweet time- 24 pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, big smile with almost all your teeth- but that wouldn't really be fair to you. Because I know this season is only the beginning of all the wonderful things you'll grow up to do.

While I'm not emotionally ready to think about you starting school, graduating, or going out to change the world, I know you will. And I know that being along for it will be the best ride. The time will come when you won't want to snuggle on my shoulder and read the bus book over and over again while you point out the monkey. The time will come when you won't giggle at me while I chase you around the dining room table for the millionth time. And the time will come when you won't come running to me crying when you're hurt, or tired, or frustrated- when I will no longer be your safe place. (And to be honest, I'm tearing up a little bit right now, just thinking about it.) But you know what time will never come? A time where you're no longer my baby. A time where you aren't cherished and loved and worth dropping everything else for. Because you always will be.

Someday you'll probably tower over me. You'll move out and have your own job and your own adult problems. You'll marry a beautiful girl and probably have some sweet blonde babies of your own. You'll read this blog post and wonder why your mother was such an emotional goober. And that's okay- good even. Because I am so blessed to be your mama and I am so grateful for a front row seat to the greatest show ever: watching you do it all. But you will never stop being my baby. And I will never stop loving you- and neither will Daddy. When you become a big brother someday, or lose your first tooth, or go on your first date, or leave for college, you'll still be our baby. And these arms will still be here to hold you. No matter what.

For now, we'll sing another song, and we'll read another book, and we'll linger a little longer in your babyhood. But in the words of the sweet book, Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch:

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be."

It's true. I love you so much, no matter what, and I always will.



  1. This is so sweet. And what a wonderful way to remember this time by putting it into a blog post - that will be something great to have years from now!


Have a question or comment?