Starving Artist Ink.

dear claire,
i will remember everything about this age, right? i mean.. how could i not?
but the reality is… i know that as remarkable and wonderful as things are now- there will be more and more to come, and these simple things i enjoy right now will be lost in my memory. that sounds impossible, yet looking at your baby pictures i already get this gut punch, ouch…my baby. my baby. how are you not that tiny baby any longer?

you are the most delightful creature in the world.
at night i lay in bed with you and rub your back as your nurse to sleep… i breathe you in, and take notice that your body is now so long- you take up more than half of the bed, spreading out and getting comfortable, i generally sleep on a tiny sliver of the side of the bed… your legs are long and push deep into my thighs, feeling your toes curl
i hum ‘silent night’ to you as you drift off into your dreams
sometimes you fight sleep so hard, thrashing and screaming until suddenly falling deeply asleep right when the lights go out and you’re tucked into the crook of my arm.

in the morning you wake with a smile and babbling.. i ask you ‘did you sleep well?’  to which you always nod, we continue our babbling conversation-or, you do and i try to sleep for two more minutes… until my face is met with your slobbering kisses, or my eyelids are pushed open with your chubby hands..

this past week you have had a cold, it’s the first time you’ve ever been sick- sore throat, stuffy and runny nose, coughing. that’s what happens when you kiss little boys that come over..  i kept vigil over you all night, as your breathing was raspy and difficult.. rolling all around, sleeping propped up on my chest, eucalyptus filling the air. ontop of that, your first two molars decided to finally push on through.

you are the most hilarious… and you know it. laughing at yourself.
when we bring you to the shop you either walk around with your nanny essie, smiling and talking to people- or sit in the cart and smile and wave and blow kisses..
people can’t get enough of you, and i can’t blame them..

when saying ‘bye’ you spend forever talking to them- making sure they don’t leave or hang up… forever blowing kisses and talking wildly with arms waving in the air.

you shake your hips and booty side to side when music comes on. you always find the rhythm.

you blink your eyes when we ask where your eyes are. you blink your eyes when we ask where your nose is. you blink your eyes when we ask where your ears are. (but before you mastered the blinking and winking, you pointed to your nose for everything. so… mastering one thing at a time is okay i suppose)
oh you also learned how to click your tongue. click clock

you are not just walking, you are running. everywhere. all the time.
climbing stairs and getting into kitchen drawers
pulling everything out and putting some back in.

you forever bring me your shoes ‘shuu?’ to put on, and your hat
and push a clip on bow into your hair, needing help to get it in.
a round of applause when it’s up.

you constantly yell ‘DADA’ at the top of your lungs
but ‘mamamamaMAMA’ always is yelled when you’re upset.

you absolutely LOVE baby dolls, babies, and older kids.
you’re mesmerized by older kids, when i bring you to the park you sit and watch them… try to talk to them, and sometimes try to lean in for a kiss and cuddle
you’re in love with animals- and always manage to spy a cat or dog and start mewing or barking and waving to them…

you love colouring and painting with mama
talking on the phone too (i have no idea where you get that from, we don’t ever use the phone..) you go and snatch up a phone ‘hii’ or ‘howya’  and some unrecognisable version of ‘who is this?’

i can’t get enough of you..