When we first saw her, this is what she was like...round and red and squalling and LOVED LOVED LOVED...no shortage of love.
My daughter has always been best at a cuddle. Her tiny arms grabbing and her little mouth kissing. Her leg rolls inviting a squish.
This is her first birthday. Precious.
At two, her hair was long enough for the littlest poking-out pigtails.
Here she is in mid-cuddle with me, at the age of 3. Sweetie-pea :)
I just can't believe it, but here she is today.
She's been 4 years old for a couple of months now.
Today is her very first day of preschool. When she woke up she said, "Oh thanks mommy for waking me up. I thought I would be late." Too cute.
We drove her to school, and dropped her off with a big kiss and a hug, and she was almost instantly off, until she leaned into my leg once and looked up and my throat caught and I gave her another kiss and smoothed her hair and said, "I'll be here at 2 to pick you up!"
When my son and I got back in the car (his school doesn't start for another week), I just sat and cried. I couldn't seem to just be okay. I let the tears just flow down my cheeks and I took great gulping breaths, and when I felt okay, I drove back home.
My son said, "Mommy...why are you crying? Does Emma have to go to school on the weekends?"
To which I laughed and said, "No sweet-pea, I'm just sad and happy all at once. I cried just like this on the day I took you to preschool, and you only went for 3 hours, and I was with you for one of them! I'm just thinking about you guys being babies and how you really aren't babies at all anymore, and it makes me a little sad, even though I'm so happy and proud of you both."
He didn't get it whatsoever, but he said, "Oh. I thought Emma would be in school on the weekend."
Here he is, three years ago, on his first day of preschool. Nervous, and worried, but excited. I remember he told me his tummy hurt. That's my boy...
My children are not babies anymore.
That is kind of hard, isn't it.
Those of you with kids of your own, know just what I mean.
You don't, of course, want them in diapers and bottles for their whole lives, but there is a kind of letting go at this age that is so bittersweet.
So, today, I'm being gentle with myself and letting myself cry, waiting by the phone for any little thing Emma might need on her first day of school, looking at pictures of her with chubby little baby legs and tiny pigtails.
For heaven's sake, she is only four, but she's my baby.
There's a little song for her on my playlist at the very bottom today, Baby Mine.