Almost Unhurried

She was playing in the shadows, on the floor, the only light coming from the fluffy Hallmark TV show because the Jazz were too distracting and she refused to calm down and sleep.

I had halfheartedly tried to rock her a few different times, but my heart was torn. Do I relish that last night of rocking her to sleep before she turns one tomorrow, or do I put off bedtime as long as possible so tomorrow takes a little longer to get here?

She made the choice in the end. She wiggled her way off my lap and onto the floor, where she played with her brother's blanket and her pink giraffe (a gift from a neighbor because she was born in the middle of April the Giraffe's labor) until she came across her bottle, which she handed to me emphatically. She'd already had two bottles, but she wanted more.

Who was I to say no? She's almost one which is almost two which is the land of a thousand "no" conversations daily.

So I went upstairs, warmed up some milk, said a little prayer of gratitude that we no longer have to fit formula into our grocery budget, snuck a cookie from the pantry, and went back downstairs.

She looked up as soon as she heard my footsteps. Her smile grew on her face and she said something she's never said to me before.

"MOMMY!"

In that moment, I was reminded of why growth is so bittersweet. As a mother, you think that nothing could be better than holding that newborn, but then she starts smiling at you, and that is the best feeling ever. The long days and longer nights turn into short weeks, and soon she is belly-laughing at her brother and reaching for her sister and playing with your hair while you feed her, and how could life get any better? And then she starts hitting milestones, unhurried, because she knows she is your baby and the only way for you to be okay with her growing up is if she takes it nice and steady and slow. Suddenly, you are looking back on your camera and realizing that you somehow missed that magic moment when she turned from newborn to infant to baby to almost-toddler.

She started with "Dad Dad Dad" and eventually started to master "Momomomomom." Last week she began saying "Mama" and yelling at her brother and calling for her sister and saying "hi" to everyone. 

But tonight she knew what she was saying.
And I knew she was growing up.
Who am I to say no?