My husband and I just celebrated our eight-year anniversary. The other day he was talking to me about…well, I actually don’t know because I caught myself fawning over his left bicep. After I confessed to him that I hadn’t heard a word he just said, I sat back a moment. I was so thankful. Here we are, now in our thirties, with a rambunctious toddler and a house in the suburbs. Our appearances have changed, our circumstances changed, our minds and hearts have grown so much since we married. We aren’t living in a small apartment in a big city anymore. I’m certainly not the same girl he met, with all my hair in tiny braids, riding around the city on my duct-tape covered bicycle. (That was a fun, short-lived phase. Hubby does not miss that bike.) We aren’t in that infatuated, young love stage anymore (which, let’s face it, is a fun stage to be in). But we are still very in love – more in love – with each other, and our life.
The other big part of my life is my daughter, A. She is one and a half years old. Yesterday I left the room for a second, and returned to find her nibbling on a crayon. Her little white teeth were outlined in purple. Our two dogs, co-conspirators in this whole crayon-tasting, were leisurely snacking on some colored wax too. After confiscating said crayons, I wondered who was the one that started this little rebellion…I think it was the human child.
Later that night while brushing A’s teeth, she pointed to my toothbrush and said, “MomMom” (that’s me) over and over until I conceded to brush my teeth as well. “I’m not the one who ate crayon for lunch,” I reminded her. She scrunched her nose and grinned. I am now instructed that I must brush my teeth every time she does. I have very clean teeth at the moment, and A loves our new ritual.
I am slightly sad that my baby is no longer a baby, but a walking, trying-to-talk toddler. Of course, regular naptimes and cuddly storytimes are truly blissful these days. And that sweet voice that says, “hi…hi…hi” to people as we walk through the grocery store, melts. my. heart.
There’s the saying, “The days are long, but the years are short.” I find this especially poignant now that I have a young one. So, here’s to filling these long days with love, laughter, and probably some messiness. Wait, scratch that. Messes are guaranteed!