This morning I wanted to weep. It was just a moment, a snapshot. Henry was toddling around the bedroom looking for mischief in his diaper and blue Martha’s Vineyard t-shirt, his wild curls sticking out the back of his head, and Annabelle was jumping on the bed next to me in her purple tinkerbell underwear. It was such a perfect moment and I didn’t want it to end.
I want to preserve them here, at these ages, forever, hold the moment, put it in a jar that I can take out whenever I need to see a pudgy baby hand blowing kisses, feel soft toddler cheeks rubbing against mine, feel tiny round arms surround my neck, feel a sleepy sweet-smelling head on my shoulder, smell maple syrup and cookies while I get butterfy kisses, hear a belly laugh…
Oh these moments… they’re going to grow, and I know we’ll have more moments, but oh how I love this beautiful world, this baby world of the sweetest softest whisper of magic intermixed with rollicking wild laughter and fun.
Which brings me to tonight. After a back-breaking bath with a fussy baby and a demanding toddler; after a trip to the bookstore involving a lot of high-pitched screams and shouting; after they both get into my eyeliner and have such a good time with it that no amount of scrubbing will help; after red painted handprints end up on my white ottoman and smeared across my doorways; after the bone weariness sets in and I’m almost too tired to take my 10pm shower; Henry lies next to me in bed, hanging onto tiny pink toes encased in Annabelle’s polka dotted socks that he insists on wearing. He looks at me with big baby eyes and tells me a very dramatic story complete with intonations, inflections, laughter and hand gestures, all in his googoo baby talk, and I am filled with only the most heart-swelling love.