I read something on Huffington Post (don’t gag, c’mon – we all do it) about how we spend so much time focusing on the “firsts.” The first day, the first step, the first day of school – we all do it. We pay attention and document the firsts of our children’s lives.
Lasts don’t get the same fanfare. They pass silently, most likely without a picture in an album. When will she fall asleep in my arms for the last time (yes, I realize some of these things won’t come for a while), when will be the last time she holds on to my pinky during a feeding, when will it be the last time she shakes with excitement when I walk into a room? I realize this is a pretty melancholy thought – I almost made K cry last night. It’s been one of those delightful weekends – when we cuddled and played and giggled – and I have trouble imagining how much more wonderful our lives could be.
Promise I’m not feeling melancholy or anything – it’s just a little bittersweet to think about all the things I’m going to miss about having a teeny tiny infant. I’m trying hard to soak in every little moment – even when I’m tired, or there’s laundry to fold, or bottles to wash. I suppose that’s just part of the balance of mommyhood. But man, if it doesn’t just all go by so quickly.