My opinions on being a mom have never vacillated or even teetered slightly. I love it. Be it a cat, a dog, a kid, or a pie, I’m (apparently) well suited for motherhood. That is, according to the barista at starbucks, of course. (Does mom of the year even come with a free cappuccino?)
While I won’t even begin to imagine how I’ve developed into the type of mom I am today, as it would be an epic tale of heaviness and hilarity, I can say sometimes I surprise myself.
Patience I never knew existed, sings it’s tune as I often have a smirk on my face when I should be fuming. I have re-read the same Arthur book WELL over 100 times and to this day am happy to read it again. I sing the ABC’s over and over again, peel countless clementines to the delight of CK’s happy tummy, and even take projectile vomit here and there for the greater good.
The point of this post was to tell you how at all of this, I am not amazed. Yes, I enjoying watching my child laugh as she “tackles” her dad, or smirk at her ability to use a fork efficiently, I happily accept the notion of her announcing her deification as I would the ding of a coo coo clock. So many little nuances that make her the little spitfire that Ant and I love.
But, it was the dates that got me.
It’s the fact that this little booger (as I like to call her), loves dates as much as I do, and chooses salad over french fries, or maybe it’s the fact that she can house a Chipotle kids meal, but whatever it is, she certainly does a great job at melting my heart.
Not to mention she was able to tell me today, after declaring her undying need for ice cream, that the ice cream shop had a K an I and a W in the name. How could I not smoosh my lips to her cheeks! Did I really need an excuse to give in to the dessert request, no, but I definitely felt much better about it after that show.
Baby # 2 has some big shoes to fill.
8 weeks and counting(and working and baking and eating and running…)
Some of my holiday recipe success photos/links to come!