Today I was driving over to Potrero to look at a preschool for Ada. She was still sleeping so Tim stayed with her and I was in the car by myself. So many things are changing so quickly - New York, new baby, Ada growing up - that a moment of stillness was welcome, even if it was 15 minutes alone in the car. We have planning these changes for years but even good chaos is still chaos.
The word chaos sounds like such a violent description for something so wonderful. While I was waiting at a red light it occurred to me that all of this is something so different than what it could seem. All of this apparent chaos is really everything just falling right into place. This will shape the coming year (I'll have more to say about that later) in more ways than one.
In between pausing to notice that changes are in process there are moments so sweet and brilliant I think my heart might explode. Ask me right now and I'll tell you I can't possibly love her more but in two weeks ask me the same question again and I'll swear that I do love her more than I did before. Not that we've done anything particularly special but these are the times when I learn even more about my daughter and consequently love her more deeply than I ever thought possible.
Helping me prepare a pot roast. There was no actual eating of the celery and the vegetable peeler doesn't work in this direction but who cares. I love it that she's in the kitchen with me. I love it that we make stuff together.
Before Santa and After Santa. Notice there is no picture with Santa. That's how it was with the big guy this year: he's still better in theory. Better luck next year.
The banana slug booger was back for a while. Poor thing.
I mean me. The snot just kept on coming. Gross.
Sledding in Union Square, jumping in Union Square, loving her best friend in Union Square.
Last night I got home from work and Tim was on the couch with Ada wide awake and fully dressed. It was 8:15 so she should have been in bed asleep already. So I said, "What's going on here?" Tim was all terse and I could see it all over his face that he was worried. Our girl had a fever and wanted nothing more than to be held. Tim is an incredibly nurturing father but this is where her mommy comes in. I prepared to stay up all night holding and comforting her... and watching her like a hawk since Tim was convinced she had meningitis or would have febrile seizures while we slept peacefully in the next room. And so I nestled in and held her until she fell asleep. We did transfer her to her crib but I got up at least 6 times in the night to check on her returning to bed with a full report that consisted of "she's still breathing."
This morning she woke up perfectly herself so we made gingerbread cookies. Each time she cut one out she would look at the cookie dough stuck in the cutter, raise her hands and exclaim "Gingerbren!" We made a total of about 6 dozen of these things. The girl has stamina.
As an appropriate follow-up she ate her weight in gingerbread cookies this afternoon.
We are carrying on with our holiday preparations like most families across the country are. Just like most other families we are way behind where we had hoped to be. It's OK, the day is coming no matter if we're "ready" so let the Christmas carols play! Sugar cookie dough waits in the fridge to see what Ada will do with it. I, for one, can hardly wait!