Being Present.

That's a really touchy feely title for me.  But I'm feeling a little touchy feely tonight.  Gasp. I shouldn't even be surprised anymore by these unsolicited feelings----even though I've never carried a baby being a mom just throws your hormones all out of whack--that's a scientific fact that I'm sure someone can back up. 

Here's the thing.  Every single night since Georgia was brought home from the hospital....and I mean every single night (except for the handful of times she's been somewhere else over night or we went away for a few days), I go into her room before I go to sleep and hold her hand.  And I hold it for a little while--not just a few seconds, and I stare at her, and I touch her cheeks, and I cover her back up, and I think about how lucky I am that I get to be her mom.  Sometimes Chris tells me to get out of her room.....I'm going to wake her up.  Sometimes she does wake up and she'll mumble, "I love you mommy," in this semi state of wakefulness and roll over.  And I LOVE THAT.  And Chris is right, it's probably rude that I do that, because it's true, I wouldn't want someone to wake me up three hours after I've fallen asleep--but I just can't help myself.


Ahhhh....I loved this....she used to pop her little fist through the slats of her crib while she slept.
You bet I took a picture of this--probably about two months old here.

I think about a lot of stuff when I'm holding that smooth little hand......I remember holding that little hand the night before I knew her birth parents were going to go to court to relinquish their parental rights to us and I started sobbing because I couldn't imagine not holding that hand if they changed their minds.  I really had nothing to worry about--but the human brain is attracted to doubt and anxiety.  I remember holding that little hand the first night that she fell asleep wearing her helmet and I was so in awe of how happy she was and how she just laid down and fell asleep so peacefully even though she was wearing that terrible thing.  I hold that little hand every time Chris goes out of town and I feel like her and I are the best little team ever to hold down the fort while daddy's away.  I hold that little hand after really hard days when she's been very naughty and has had a lot of time outs and tears and that mom guilt is trying to creep in and make me feel bad.

Look at those little nails.  I loved them.  She bites them now and I dream about a day when they might look like this again.

 I can't imagine a day that I'll stop going in to her room and holding her hand at night......I mean I guess when she goes to college her room-mate will think it's weird or when she gets married her husband won't think it's that cool so I'll have to consider laying off.......but it's honestly one of my most favorite moments of the day and I have no plans to stop any time soon. 

The other night during one of our hand-holding sessions I started thinking about how it's really time to start get serious about transitioning Georgia out of her crib.  But I don't want to.  I don't care if she sleeps in a crib for two more years because it will mean she's still my baby.  And yes...she'll always be my baby...but you know what I mean.  I almost started crying.  I had to definitely leave her room so I didn't wake her up. 


These are her pink shoes.....read the whole story about these here.

And that's one of the hardest things about being a mom--that sand slipping through your fingers feeling that in the moment you might not mind because it's been a really long day, you can't figure out why your two old hits you, you don't want to play vet one more time, it's really too hot to go to the park but a toddler doesn't get that so you spend a miserably sweaty hour there, and it would be really nice if even for twenty minutes your daughter would be okay to play by herself.  And then those days are gone and you wonder where they went because maybe you weren't totally as present as you could have been when they were happening. 


Georgia loved these little blocks.  She has a little bit of dirt in between her fingers and I even love that...it's her dirt.....her hands.

I cleaned out Georgia's summer clothes yesterday and put her new fall stuff into her dresser.  I spent days finding the perfect summer stuff for her.  I thought about how cute she'd look in all of it.  I loved it.  And then.....poof......she's worn it all; some of it's ruined with Popsicle stains and sidewalk paint and spaghetti sauce......but she's ready for new clothes because she's growing SO FAST.

And today I asked her if I could play "pink car" with her.  She said no.  She was going to play, "Just Georgia and the people."  Ugh.  My first "you're my mom rejection." She wanted to play by herself. 


I wasn't allowed to play so I took a whole bunch of pictures.  Oh....and yes....that's fake poop on the table.  Chris thought that was a funny toy for Georgia to play with.  We're real classy over here.  Real classy.

You know that feeling that you got at the start of every school year; you had new notebooks and folders and pens and you vowed that this semester you were going to keep it all nice, take perfect notes, not miss an assignment,  and not scribble a whole bunch of stuff out so your notebooks looked messy (that might have just been me)?  And then.....October rolled around (or mid-September) and you felt lazy and you didn't like this class and you needed to play MASH in your math notebook to pass the time and you lost sight of that goal. 
It's like that with everything.  And it's okay I think--it's just how it is with us humans.  But they're still good goals to set.  I want to be more present in Georgia's everyday so that when I'm holding that little hand at the end of the day I don't think about the "I wishes......"

And I know I still will.  But sometimes it's really good to just think about what you want to do better and work on it for a few days and then work on it some more a few days later and then again a few more days later. 

That's what I've been thinking about lately. 

Off to hold some hands.