no, really.

Dear Bella,

I used to be cool. No, really. I mean, there was this brief span of time between high school (when I was really uncool) until now; those were my cool years. And still, I have my moments. I'm not so horrible right now. Okay, so my fashion sucks. Sure, I forget to brush my hair some days and I go out with puke stains on my shirt and spaghetti on my pants. But I'm fun to be with. Or so I assume. I mean, I enjoy me and you seem to as well.

All this is just to say that I wish you could remember me as I am today.



When I think of my own mother, I remember her the way she was when we lived in Massachusetts and when I was a teenager. It makes me realize that you will remember me in my thirties and forties. You'll think of your twenty seven year old mother and giggle. No, I could never be that young. And yet you will remember a me that I have yet to even meet. How very strange. It is almost heartbreaking to think that these wonderful days you will remember only in photos.

So, I keep track. Not just for you, but for me. Every mile stone you hit wipes out the memory of its predecessors. Will I remember that this month you decided that everything is plural? We eat plum-ez and put on shoo-ez. (You put on your velcro shoo-ez all by yourself!) You problem solve like no other and I get to see those gears grinding away. All out of milk? Mama pump some! Your temper is still tempestuous, though when it's gone, you assess yourself and with genuine cheer and relief announce, I'm happy now! In the heat of a tantrum you will choose a spot to flop onto the ground and declare, Wa be sad.

You relive moments over and over out loud, like when you fell into the ditch of blackberry brambles. And you put on your serious voice and chime in with very serious topics (such as how your balloon popped one day) when you hear adults discussing Very Important Matters. Your slide strike is over and you now climb everything at the park. You clap for Lia when she rolls over, and you help Daddy shoo the flies out of the kitchen by shouting, Go away, BEEZ! And baking. We've been doing tons of baking.

I can't believe how fast this month has gone, how well you are doing with my divided time, and how grown up you suddenly are. I used to look at you and still see my baby, but I blinked this month and suddenly you are all little girl. It's exciting and scary all at once. I'll let it slide for now, since you still let me call you baby. You might only remember me when I'm old and grown up, but to me you will always be my baby.

Love,
mama

ps. yesterday you saw an empty pillow case on the bed and pointed to it with excitement and said, mama! the pillow popped! i could listen to your thoughts forever.

pps. i do realize the irony of not having a single photo of myself in here, sorry. so here's one daddy took yesterday: