X's and O's

Yesterday, I took Ria, my nearly-one-year-old daughter, to Burlington to look for coats for next year. I pulled out several sized 3T coats (because big coats mean at least two years of usage) and let her choose. I was glad she chose green and not Pepto-Bismol pink (which most of the girls' coats are) because it is a lot easier on my eyes. Though I would have supported the pink had she wanted it.

After choosing one for her sister, we went up to the front to pay. I let her carry her coat. When it was time to ring out, I told her to bring her coat so we could buy it. She toddled over with the world's largest grin on her face. I swooped her up and put the coat on the counter so the girl behind the desk could ring it up while I searched for my card.

Suddenly, Ria began covering me with kisses and hugs, her little body straining against my arm. She was jumping up and down and wound her little arms around my neck, squeezing with every ounce of energy in her. She was kissing and hugging so much that I couldn't swipe my card.

It was the absolute best feeling in the world. Totally made my day.

Littlest Helper

My nearly-one-year-old, Ria, always feels sad when I take her older sister into the bathroom to do her hair. Because one of Ria's favorite pastimes is playing in the toilet, it is necessary to shut her out.

Today, she was extraordinarily quiet. I knew I was in for trouble when I came out. (Quiet generally means mischief.)

I was pleasantly surprised to see that she had only retrieved her shoes and put them near their little couch, ready to put on her feet.

Warm and Safe

There is nothing simpler and more beautiful than both of my daughters sitting on my lap in a family cuddle.

It does make me wonder how moms with more children do it. It seems that it might be a bit uncomfortable.

Beauty in Transience

One of the messages in the Last Unicorn is that although there is beauty in immortality, there is a far more poignant beauty found in things that fade and die.

Yesterday, my daughter spouted the line "leave me alone!" It affected me more deeply than I would have thought. I always knew she would someday leave me behind, but this simple statement of toddler independence nearly crushed me. It is the beginning of the end. It means that I will savor the scent of her hair when she cuddles me more deeply than I even did before. I will treasure every soft touch, and every sweetly concerned "don't cry, mommy."

It pains me to know that I am not capturing every second of being with her, holding it like a fluttering butterfly. I get too caught up in cleaning, cooking, unwinding from my day. How I try to freeze every feeling into a secret place in my heart, where the finger-tip memory of the feel of my dog's wiry fur is still tucked away, to bring out only when I need it most.

With a startling prescience, I see myself holding a pillow to my chest, alone in my room, closing my eyes and breathing in the remembered tickle of her soft hair. I can't imagine anything more precious. Even my whimsical mind cannot conceive of anything more beautiful than these moments, now, spent with her. Eternity cannot possibly be beautiful in the way that this is beautiful, because eternity does not die.