Do I really have a five year old already? Sure, sometimes its hard to remember life before motherhood. Hard to remember sleeping through each night. Hard to remember life before diapers, hand sanitizer, and Dora the Explorer. Hard to remember a leisurely shower, or enjoyable trip to the grocery store. Hard to remember when we didn’t have little hand prints all over the refrigerator, or stale snacks littering the floor of the car. Hard to remember a time I didn’t have binders full of baby-art I couldn’t bring myself to throw away, or albums full of pictures that rarely include me. Hard to remember date-night. Hard to remember what in the world I used to talk about. And yet it doesn’t seem all that long ago Brook and I both sat bawling together our first night home from the hospital. Not so long ago she looked like a bald-monkey sitting in her boppy pillow, wide-eyed and proud of herself. Not so long ago she said her first words, or started walking, or called herself “Brootyin“. And now she’s pouring her own cereal, running her own bath, dressing herself, playing songs on the piano, and learning to read. Its amazing to witness, even if the nostalgia of baby-scented lotion leaves me in ruins. I have enjoyed watching her grow. I have loved watching her become happier with each step towards independence. She has always been a strong, observant, determined, artistic, intelligent, compassionate person. And as much as I might want time to stand still for one hot minute, I know Brooklyn’s meant for bigger things than boppy pillows. I’m both excited and scared for the next five years. If the past is any indication of the future, I’m sure I’ll cry a lot, and laugh a lot, and the days will fly by.
