And Now You Are Five

My Darling Girlie,

How did you get to be FIVE?!  Where have the last five years gone?!?

I was thinking of this tonight, when you climbed into bed with me, snuggled up against me, and then stole my phone to play solitaire.  And you won!  How did you learn to play solitaire?  How did you learn to win?

Why are you growing up so fast?!

It breaks my heart that I can only vaguely remember the sweet little baby you were.  One of my most cherished memories is of wrapping you up against me in the MOBY wrap and then lying on the couch and reading a book.  You were two months old and you fell asleep, your milk-sweetened breath puffing gently on my neck.

I think of that now, as you are sleeping at my side, with your bubble gum toothpaste scented breath puffing in my face.

And I can only think -- you look like a person.  I see in you the child you are, the teenager you will become, the woman you will one day be.  And I can only barely see the baby you were.  And I weep.

You are a person.  For so long, I thought of you as a baby, my baby, an extension of me.  You are my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night.  And now I realize that you will always be my baby, but you are becoming so much more.

I realize I am quick to complain that you climb into my bed and kick me all night long.  But when I think about it, how many more sleepless, kicked fill nights are you going to give me? 

How many more days am I going to get of snuggling with you on the couch, watching a show?

How many more colored pages are are you going to create for me?

How many more school pick ups where you coming running up to me, shouting "Mommy!" and give me a big hug?

Each time these things happen, it's a gift that should be cherished as you move further away from me and more into the world.  

My time as your favorite person is limited.  And it's going too fast.

When you are a parent, your days are long.  Interminably long.  But the years... they speed by in a blink of an eye.

I want those five years back.

When I think about how impatient I was for you to roll over,sit up, crawl, walk, run, talk, go to preschool, join a sports team, I could cry.

I wish I had a time machine to go back to that new mother I was and tell her to stop.

To spend more time on the couch with a baby in her arms. 

To Slow down.

To Enjoy. 

Because one day her child will be five, and she will have no idea how it happened.  

I love you so much,

Mommy