You know what is suddenly the most exciting thing in the world? Laundry. More specifically, baby laundry. I get more joy out of folding swaddles & burp clothes, and teeny onesies than most people probably get out of dinner at a gourmet restaurant. Tiny laundry, that is the stuff dreams are made of, I tell you. That, and these cheeks, which I’m convinced get a little chubbier by the day. Chubby cheeks may be my most motivating force in breastfeeding this baby. Claire’s cheeks, thighs, and head seem to be the main recipient of all this milk (so, hopefully she’ll be able to wear one of her million headbands within the week.)
But, here’s the problem with chubby cheeks - chubby cheeks mean Claire is growing up, getting older. There is a special kind of emotion reserved for the awareness that your child is growing up. It’s the very definition of bittersweet. I can’t wait for those first smiles, but I also will miss her floppy little newborn body, how malleable she is in my arms when I cuddle with her. I’ll miss knowing when she’s happy by the sparkle in her eyes, rather than the shape of her mouth (and yes, you can absolutely tell.)
But, here’s the problem with chubby cheeks - chubby cheeks mean Claire is growing up, getting older. There is a special kind of emotion reserved for the awareness that your child is growing up. It’s the very definition of bittersweet. I can’t wait for those first smiles, but I also will miss her floppy little newborn body, how malleable she is in my arms when I cuddle with her. I’ll miss knowing when she’s happy by the sparkle in her eyes, rather than the shape of her mouth (and yes, you can absolutely tell.)
I almost cried when I took off the "s" on "weeks" in the first photo. I was just dragging photoshop layers from picture to picture, rather than recreating them individually to save time, and just taking the "s" off of that first photo made me think "she'll never be just one week old again!" And she won't. She's four weeks - 1 month old today. She looks double the size of the baby in that first poorly lit photo, taken on her dad's first day back at work in a frenzy of trying to get dinner made and hoping she'd nap while we ate it with two hands. She has a distinctively fluffier head of hair, and the size 0-3 onesie we've got her in for all four photos is actually pretty close to fitting her. You know, I could wax poetic about how I don't want her to grow up for 3 more pages but I'll stop myself here.
You get back to your Wednesday, and I'll get back to folding these tiny socks.
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