I've been saying all along I don't want to wish away her infancy. But that's partly a lie. Something I say because other people say it and you're supposed to say it and you're supposed to mean it. To cherish this time of small feet and hands, or smallest but largest accomplishments. I am nearly giddy over the prospect of conversing with her. Of cooking with her. Of riding Peter Pan with her. Of taking her to tea.
Yet it stuck me today that I only parent in the moment. I only know how to parent a today's-day-old. I barely notice the change to a new day's-old until after it's passed me by. I can't prepare for the ten month old her. The two year old. I hope I notice when these new children arrive.
I was watching her this morning, clinging to the side of the couch, standing proudly and smacking her hands on the cushion, frustrated by her inability to reach my cereal bowl. A little foreigner in my family room.