“Hold still.” These are the words we say so many times a day to our toddler who never stops moving, but today, they hold a different meaning for me.
As we try to change a diaper or get her dressed, bathe her or brush her teeth, “hold still,” we say. In this photo, my husband is trying to get her swimsuit on to head to the beach. “Hold still,” he said and instead, she smiled and stopped long enough for me to snap this photo.
She moves so fast and rarely is still at all; I’m constantly amazed at her energy and her ability to turn any situation into a dance party as she moves her shoulders up and down to a song she hums herself.
When she does rest, it’s often with me right beside her. She finally stills and I always watch her sleep for a bit, marveling at how her tiny body has finally stopped moving, if just for a while. I memorize her face each day and the wrinkles in her hands, knowing well how quickly they will change. Continue Reading
“Mommy, jump, too!” she said as she pulled my hand.
It was rainy for a while today, and forced to retreat inside for a bit, my daughter found a piece of bubble wrap from a freshly delivered package. Always one to make her own fun, she began to jump on it as I laughed.
I sat and watched her for a few minutes before she reached down and grabbed my hand and said “Mommy, jump, too!” And so I did and we danced and jumped and it was a perfect three minutes of my day.
In life with a very busy and often trying toddler, these moments really make me stop and remember that this is the little girl who makes me laugh and whose sense of adventure–even so very young–pushed me further on my own journey. Continue Reading
Today, I learned not to underestimate the beauty of small hands picking berries.
We close on our new house on Friday, but this morning, we were there to drop off a few things.
We walked around the property and into an area we hadn’t yet wandered. There, we found bushes and bushes of black raspberries and blackberries. My children squealed with delight as they ran wild, picking and eating the berries. Their faces were a familiar red with the residue of the berries that I had forgotten; my daughter’s hands still have the stains as evidence even now, eight hours later.
And I can’t explain fully the joy that gave me–watching them pick and eat the berries at will, sharing handfuls with one another and running to give me a berry. When I was a small girl, we used to pick berries along the country road we lived on and I remember eating my fill of berries. In my memory, time was slower then; life was simpler. The sun glistened through the tree canopy and we were just happy. Continue Reading