The other night, Thing 2 was finally asleep, and a very tired Thing 1 had just been tucked into bed. I sat by her bed, and talked about the day, and what she is going to dream about (flying in the clouds with dragons and Kipper the Dog). She was staring half asleep into the distance, her buzzing internal energy mellowing to a soft hum, her face peaceful in the glow of the nightlight as she hugged her stuffed dog. As I looked at her, I suddenly had one of those strange revelation moments as I fully thought about the fact that she was my daughter. This beautiful child with her wild blonde hair and her huge eyes and her ridiculous cackle of a laugh. The 2 year old that can tell you about molecules and dinosaurs and wants to know what a horizon is. I felt like the last time I really LOOKED at her was over a year ago, before I was pregnant with Thing 2, when she was just starting to walk and talk and was in love with her bears at the zoo. I was overwhelmed with this feeling that I had missed the last year and half of her life. While I had been distracted by morning sickness and postpartum and a newborn and working and moving, she had become someone new.
Then I realized: It's happening! I am missing the little baby stage! I am thinking 'wow that went fast! I need to treasure these moments!'
It was a strangely melancholy feeling.
I sat there until she fell asleep, just staring at her face, trying to make sense of how this amazing person could have come out of me, and now be so separately and entirely her own self.
Before I know it she will be in school and then college and then off on her own.
(I totally can't wait!)