Handwritten

So I write these letters to toddler G. Letters that I attempt to write once a month but seem to really only get written every other to every three months. They are my way of keeping up with what she's learned to do, what she has grown out of, and how she is making me feel. Once I type the letter in an email to myself I then hand write it in a cute brown journal with buttons on the cover that I love. I've nearly filled it to the 3/4 mark but am making little progress at the moment.

It must be because our days fly by or because she is such a handful or because I know that the sooner I write it down the sooner she'll stop being my little baby. I know that as soon as I write the words, she has learned to walk backwards and sometimes walks right into a wall that she'll never do it again. That as soon as I write she loves to blow spit bubbles and watch me blow them back that she'll grow out of it. I know that as soon as I write she loves to lay down in the back tub on her belly or walk as fast as she can from the front of the tub to the back (which scares me to death) that she'll just sit there and do nothing. I'm so afraid to break the silence I've built within myself, taking it all in, watching everything she does, breathing in her smell, tasting the skin on her knees when she falls down and I kiss her uh-oh's, that she's taken to tangling her fingers in my hair or shirt to fall asleep, reveling in the fact that she wants to sleep against me...face pressed into my chest all night long, that she wants to scoot into my lap as far as she can and lay her head on my chest while she watches her favorite show 'Jack's Big Music Show' that I just can't write it in a letter. I'll just keep it to myself, allow my eyes, ears, mouth, and fingers to enjoy these days before she wants to borrow the car or talk about kissing boys/girls...for now she's sweet.

Sickeningly sweet and I can't wait for her to wake up to do it all again tomorrow.