Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Thank You, Caroline....

....for kicking my lungs and ribs so hard I couldn't breathe sometimes. The first time you did, I was in the bath tub and it was the first time I'd ever felt you really kick like that. I knew you were going to be strong.

Thank you for each and every labor pain, even the ones that were so bad that I was made delirious and unable to scream or cry or move.

Thank you for every sleepless night spent walking you around, patting your tiny back, waiting for your tiny burp.

Thank you for every dirty diaper, and for every time you peed in the diaper I'd *just* put on.

Thank you for every bit of spit-up in my hair and on my shirt. You taught me that vanity is nothing next to the love you feel for your child.

Thank you for every fit you threw as a toddler, every bit of food I had to scrape off the floor and every crayon mark I had to remove from the walls.

Thank you for every midnight ER visit and every time you wet the bed when you were sick because you were too out-of-it to get up and go to the toilet.

Thank you for every morning Daddy and I didn't get to sleep in because you decided that it was a sunny day and time to get up.

Thank you for every smart-alec reply and every back-talk.

Thank you for all the Goldfish crackers I've had to vacuum off the car floor and all the mud I've had to clean up off the house floors.

Thank you for all the days I couldn't go out with my friends because you had a basketball game or a piano lesson or a Robotics meeting.

Up until today I have only thanked you when you behave, when you smile, when you're kind, when you're considerate, when you laugh, when you're funny, when you're "good". But when the realization comes upon me that one day you'll leave our house and go out on your own, it occurs to me that I'm grateful for all the rest too, and I am and always will be so, incredibly, unfailingly grateful for every moment I have with you. No matter what you're doing or saying, and no matter what action I have to take because of it. I love you when you're messy; I love you when you're cranky; I love you when you're ornery; I love you when you're selfish; I love you when you refuse to clean that room.
And when the day comes that you'll fly away, none of those things will be enough to keep me from wanting you back with all my heart.

Thank you for being my daughter all the way, and everything that comes with it.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Every Good Barbarian Has One


This morning in the bathroom as I'm combing her hair.

"Mommy? Do you know what I reeeeally want? What I've always wanted but have never got?"

"Um...yes. That pyramid toy you keep talking about. Everyone knows about that."

"No. I mean, yes. I want that. But there's something else that's even more important to me and I would do almost anything if you would get one for me for my birthday."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"


Sunday, March 8, 2009

What The Future Holds

A few weeks ago, we took a very short trip back to the states, where we visited my family for exactly a day and a half, and Calvin's family for 2 days.

Caroline was looking incredibly forward to seeing my parents, to whom she's very close, and got to spend a whole 4 hours with them before SHE STARTED THROWING UP.

Yes, after that miserably long trip, complete with frequent train changes, a cramped air plane, screaming brats running up and down the aisles and kicking flight-attendants, bad food, and a long drive to NC, and Caroline behaving impeccably throughout the whole thing, that poor kid was gifted by the universe with a miserable stomach flu. She had a high fever and was able only to lay on the sofa and dream of the Disney store she otherwise was promised a trip to.


Well, mom and I did make a trip to the Disney store for Caroline and brought her back an armload of gifts from both there and A REAL BOOKSTORE, another place Caroline had hoped to visit. Still, it wasn't the same. I wish we could have stayed longer. Sadly though, the next stop was to Calvin's hometown where we spent the next two days visiting his mother in the nursing home where she is recovering from a leg break.

So, I'm sorry, Caroline. That trip was really no fun for you at all. Next time, huh?

Before she got sick though, we had dinner with my parents. During which, I learned about my daughters future hopes and career aspirations.

My Dad: So Caroline, have you decided what you want to be when you grow up?

Caroline: Yes! In fact, I have a list!

MD: A list! What's on it?

C: A lot of things!

MD: Like what? What's number 5?

C: An archaeologist.

MD: Number four?

C: A veterinarian.

MD: Number 3?

C: An astronaut.

MD: Two?

C: A paleontologist.

MD: And number one?