Little Blues

It seems I've come down with a touch of the latest stomach virus, though I've been mostly in staunch denial of it all day. I've reached the point now where denial makes no difference, my belly like a storm and my head spinning when I stand up and my face feeling hot. It's one day before my little one's birthday and I need to be well for celebrating the anniversary of her day of entry into the world. We have plans to attend to, gifts to give, love to spread around in our little home. Apparently, the stomach virus doesn't care about any of this, and I'm quite angry with it.

Another feeling (besides that queezy, nauseas pang) has arisen today. I'm feeling a bit melancholy, sad with time's quick passage across these last seven years. Seven years!!! It seems like just a short while ago I was rubbing a soft, round belly, marveling with the hubs at the tiny waves that would ripple over it's surface as we lay in bed. We lived in a tiny apartment on the beach back then, new parents to be, filled with awe and nervous happiness. That our baby girl is now closer to ten than two is almost difficult to believe, even though we knew the time would fly by as she grew up.

I'm happy. I love experiencing each phase she grows through. She's my daughter and my little buddy, and as she learns from me and from the world I learn from her too. I applaud her courage, rejoice over her sensitivity, adore her beautiful spirit, frustrate over her stubbornness (no idea where she gets that from-ahem). I talk with her through the failures, kiss the boo boos, hug her through the hurts, and hope that, whatever I do as a parent, it's good and it's enough. But, as well, I miss peek-a-boos, and her little joyous giggles, the words she used to mispronounce and the times when all the world was her and my husband and I. There is wonder in the broadening of things, in being with her as she experiences life outside our home, outside our family bubble. But there's a poinancy to the part of parenting where we are encouraging our children to be more independent even though in some small way our hearts are breaking at the loss of what used to be.

So, today is a bluesy sort of Tuesday, preceeding the happy celebrations of Wednesday.




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