Today, I thought we’d take our girl out for hot chocolate. We got dressed and put our shoes on. We locked up the house and went out to the car. She started getting defiant and cranky, so I got defiant and cranky.
We played through this series of events twice today.
But I still wanted hot chocolate, so papa went and got it to-go, and bebe got hers for “napping well.”
I’m really good at this.
I have a journal that was gifted to me when I was pregnant. The concept is that you document everyday motherhood — one happy thought, sentence, sentiment, memory every single day.
It’s a wonderful journal, but when I think about it, I feel like a failure. I miss documenting a lot of days — lately, most days. My go-to entry on days that I forget to journal is, “Oops!” I used that a lot the first year she was born. I just couldn’t keep up. When I got to year two of her life, my stomach sank every time I came across an “Oops!” entry from the year prior.
“What happened that day last year?” I’d think. Did she hit a new milestone? Was she happy that day or fussy? How many teeth did she have?
I still come across those entries. The big gut punches are the days I come across where I’ve missed both years to-date. 2015: Oops! 2016: Oops! I know I’m on track to three-peat some days. Next year, I’ll look back and come across days that I have never journaled. 2017: Oops!
Not journaling makes me feel anxious, regretful, and inadequate, but I also recognize that not journaling probably means I am tired — from reading an extra book at bedtime, from working all day so I feel good, from prepping her lunches for school, from a nightcap that made me fall asleep on the couch (again).
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not too shabby.
Ever since bebe was born, my husband and I have had a nightly ritual of cuddling on the couch to look through our phones together and share all of the photos and videos we captured that day.
As she approached one year old, the daily pictures become weekly and eventually monthly progress pictures.
When she turned two, we just snapped what we could when we could, and that’s left me craving something.
I started this blog because I didn’t want to miss anything. And maybe the lack of photos is an indication that I’m succeeding — that I’m participating in my life — but I don’t want to regret anything.
This is a day in the life — an actual day in the life, complete with crusty noses, messy kitchen counters, and canine eye boogers. This is my stopping to smell the roses.
Bebe outfit details: similar toddler jean jacket, trapeze dress, toddler vans
Mama outfit details: black jumpsuit, similar strappy heels
This bebe is two years old and has a mind of her own. She has a POV on all things, including how we pronounce words, what we should eat, where we should sit, and more recently, what she should wear. This extends to everything from her pajamas, to her socks, to her panties (#pottytraining), to the bow in her hair.
And to the shoes – THE SHOES. The other day I was breaking down a shoe box for recycling when she dashes over to me and squeals, “Mama, you got me new shoes?!”
I’ve created a monster (and sidekick).
P.S. One of my more humbling sartorial pursuits as of late was this jumpsuit.
Bebe outfit details: chambray shirt, tulle skirt, fox tights, kids chucks
Mama outfit details: similar lace top
Papa outfit details: LOL
You’d never guess that 20 minutes before these photos were taken, bebe threw up all over herself in the car. Thanks to mom foresight, she wasn’t in her outfit yet.
Outfit details: hair bow, romper, elephant (gift)
You’ve seen this romper before. But this face — man, it’s changed.
I went to her closet to pick out her outfit today and saw this romper hanging there. Just for fun, I thought I’d see if it still fits. And it does(ish).
This matters to me because bebe has changed so much since she last wore it. I keep a journal, and as I documented some recent milestones last night, I felt overcome by the fact that she’s not an infant anymore.
That she fits into this wee romper — my little one who’s always been in the 99th percentile for just about everything — means something to me, and it’s that she’s still my baby girl.
Outfit details: hair bows, denim shirt, bermuda shorts, sandals
It’s a funny and bittersweet thing – toddlerdom.
- When did we go from describing the place she sleeps as a “nursery” to her “room?”
- When did she start having a preference on which shoes she’d like to wear?
- When did she learn that she can decide who to kiss?
I’m – at the same time – so wistful about and grateful for how fast she grows. She confounds me daily, this ridiculous creature who made me a mom.