I haven’t written anything on this site for a while. Not since the day I failed at parenting.
I feel like I’ve missed so many milestones by not writing them down. But the most recent one brought me to tears, so I’m forcing myself to sit down and write again.
Last week, I wrote a blog for FamilyArc called “10 Ways to Be a Caring Mother.” I guess you could say it was sort of a warm-up exercise. It was the first time I had blogged (or written anything at all for that matter) in weeks. It made me realize that when you stop writing—when you stop practicing and honing your craft—you get rusty. It took me a very long time to write that blog.
Even now, as I’m sitting here trying to write this one, I’m still feeling rusty. Not only have I not practiced in a while. I haven’t written anything to or about you since last year’s potty training fiasco. That was the day I tried forcing you to grow up before you were ready. I’ll never do that again. Especially now that I know how it feels to blink and realize my firstborn is suddenly two years old.
Your latest milestone had me weeping, almost uncontrollably. We thought it was going to be difficult for you to transition from your crib into your queen-sized bed. So difficult, in fact, that we avoided doing it for weeks even after we had set up your new bedroom.
It wasn’t difficult for you at all. Me, on the other hand…
We celebrated your second birthday with the family on April 9. The very next night, you fell asleep in your big-girl bed for the first time. I took a picture, because I wanted to remember your face—how sweet it looked in that moment—forever.
I remember being frustrated, because you were fighting it at first. Not the bed, necessarily. Just sleep, which is pretty typical of you. I kept having to say, “close your eyes and go to sleep Indie. It’s bed time.” I even texted your dad while I was lying there in the bed with you and suggested that maybe he should try, or that we should take you back into the other room with the rocker and crib and let you fall asleep on my lap like you had been used to doing every night.
Now that I look back, I wonder if maybe I’m the one who was fighting this transition. I wasn’t ready for you to achieve this milestone quite yet. I wasn’t (and I’m still not) ready for you to grow up so soon…
Jereme and I still miss you when you fall asleep. As eager as we are to get you in bed, as soon as we’re alone, we talk about how amazing you are and how much we can’t wait to wake up and see your smiling face again in the morning.
While I dread the process of you growing older, I also know that you get more amazing every day. As your personality develops, I fall more and more in love with the girl you’re becoming. And I’m so excited to teach you and to share with you everything the Lord has done for me and for our family.
So as you continue to grow, I’ll cherish every moment.
I’m not an adventurous person. Ask my husband, and he’ll tell you. I don’t much care for the great outdoors. I’m very afraid of heights. Camping trips and extreme sports aren’t really my thing. I spend a lot of time typing away at my keyboard and drinking obscene amounts of coffee and wine. I’d rather be at home with a good book than out at a crowded bar. He and I are pretty much polar opposites (which is probably why we get along and balance each other so well).
I’m not adventurous by most people’s definitions. And if you were to say that about me before I had kids, I’d agree with you. But if you were to say that now, I’d challenge you to redefine the word “adventurous,” because I think I’m living the biggest and best adventure life has to offer right now.
I know I say this at least 20 times a day, but it always bears repeating:
I love you Indie. I’m so thankful to be your mama.