Two weeks! In just two weeks, she will be three. And there will be no more babies in this house.
I don’t feel any pangs of sadness that she is my last baby; in fact, this new stage, where they can all play together, stay up a little later, go to the bathroom without diapers, sleep without Binkies, and even (gasp!) swim together (with puddle jumpers!) without me actually IN the water…well, that’s like a breath of fresh air after almost eight years of hyper-vigilance. Small steps of independence actually feel amazing, because even though I have tried to cherish these small stages, getting to take a step back myself feels pretty darn good.
But that doesn’t mean that I like the idea of my littlest about to be three. How is that even possible. Not a questions, just a statement. It doesn’t even remotely feel possible.
This little one is so full of contradictions–so very much a tomboy, with her Rescue Bots and Paw Patrol vehicles–and still can’t wait until it’s warm enough to wear her hand-me-down dresses from her sister. She’s pink and blue and dolls and trucks and the perfect blend for the last kid because she is just so FUN. The perfect companion.
Her eyes are turning greener, her hair is getting longer, her sass is undeniable and she is full of shenanigans. But no matter what, she’s pretty darn amazing, and I will take shenanigans every day of the week to just hear her say, “Will you tell me a story about school?” and “Where are you going? You come back?” Yes, baby girl, Mommy always comes back.
Her smiles and laughs and yes, even whines, keep me going every day. Thank God we had three. Thank God for Little H and how she fills my soul and completes our family.
The world, our world, my world is a better place because of that smile.