My baby has grown up.
It sneaked up on me so stealthily--I hardly even noticed. The bottles are all gone, (thanks to Jimmy--the huge unruly puppy--who chewe
d them all up) as are the diapers. No more high chair. No more bibs. Sophie's chest of drawers has nary a onesie. She's grown out of her stroller. We switched her from the car seat to the booster.Rattles have been replaced by Barbies. The Baby Einstein videos are in the back of the cabinet, and Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White are in the front.
No more baby food or formula in the cupboard. In fact, this morning, with very little help on my part, Soph made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My only job was to cut off the crusts.
When we go to the restaurant, I no longer ask for a high chair. Now when the server comes, Sophie cheekily offers, "Umm. I'll have a woot beer please."
Instead of cheerfully spending her time chewing on baby biscuits and trying to roll over, Soph points out letters of the alphabet to me, and recognizes her name.
No more bouncy seat. Now we have a Barbie Jeep in the back yard, and a big wheel in the front.
Instead of trying to coax her to say Ma Ma, I spank her butt for calling me a pain in the ass. Instead of helping her learn to walk, I help her to a time out after I find her on the kitchen cabinet, dumping out the Lucky Charms all over the floor, better to sort the useless cereal from the delicious
marshmallows.I haven't changed a shitty diaper in months--but am now summoned into the bathroom to find her little butt poking up in the air waiting for a wipe.
Of course, I'm both elated and heart broken by this realization. Changing shitty diapers is something that even the most sentimental of mothers couldn't miss--but man, folding all of those little pairs of Care Bear panties kind
of chokes me up sometimes.I used to worry about her eating things off of the floor. Now I worry about all of her name calling (Apparently, any noun, followed by the word head, is a "name." ex. diaper head, couch head, banana head, hamburger head.)
Who is this big girl? What has she done with my baby?
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Not making bottles and changing diapers anymore
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Not making bottles and changing diapers anymore
11 comments:
excuse me while I grab a tissue
very touching. thank you for sharing
It is bittersweet to watch them grow up isn't it? She has only gotten cuter and she was a doll when she was tiny. I was so happy to see baby Sophie pictures. I never would have guessed that she had such little hair.
Wow B. That was wonderful. Look at her. You put it together beautifully.
Mwah, that was so sweet! I giggled all the way through. What a fun trip down memory lane.
Sniff. From Rob has told Sophie is about the same age as my Elf. After reading I must give him an extra hug.
My baby has grown up.
It sneaked up on me so stealthily--I hardly even noticed. The stuffed animals are all gone, (thanks to Darth Jimmy--the huge unruly goth guy she's dating--who cals her 'My Dark Queen' and wants to take her to the 'Faith and the Muse' reunion tour concert) as are the posters of "Matchbook 70". No more Karaoke Revolution 7. No more cooter cream. Sophie's chest of drawers has nary a training bra. She's grown out of those. We switched her from the B to the C cup.
Barbies have been replaced by cigarettes. The lock is back on the liquor cabinet, and Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White are a thing of the past.
No more parental advise or wisdom in my corner. In fact, this morning, with very little help on my part, Soph fixed the alternator when my car wouldn't start. My only job was to turn the ingition when she prompted.
When we go to the restaurant, I no longer ask for a booster chair. Now when the server comes, Sophie cheekily ask, "Yeah. What have you got on tap?"
Instead of cheerfully spending her time making up funny games and nestling into paper towels, Soph points out flaws in my political logic, and recognizes that the world is a cold place.
No more 'Hunger Teen Aqua Force'. Now we have Hayao Miyazaki and Floyd Shermainsen.
Instead of trying to coax her to do her home work, I ground her for calling me a "heartless bitch". Instead of helping her learn to drive, I help her by taking the fall when she's wrecked my car on her way out to the store to get some Lucky Charms because she had a hankering for the delicious marshmallows.
I haven't changed a shitty diaper in years--but am now summoned into the bathroom to help decide if the little lines on the white stick are pink or not.
Of course, I'm both elated and heart broken by this realization. Changing shitty diapers is something that even the most sentimental of mothers couldn't miss--but man, folding all of those little pairs of g-string panties kind of chokes me up sometimes.
I love that you appreciate your daughter growing up.
I love that you have so many years before she's actually grown up.
Cherish...just as you are right now.
so sweet. look at baby sophie gene!! she was a little baldie!
I totally understand the sentiment, but I'm kind of looking forward to reminiscing about no more shitty diapers.
Once again, brilliant! But for sheer entertainment value, I've got to go with Rob's version.
And FYI, those "little white lines" on the sink ARE white. And Soph still owes me for that 8 ball.
Sniff. I love all of those pictures of her as a wee one!
God, it really doesn't seem like that long ago she was a little tyke crawling around on the floor. I absolutely love that kid!
So happy and so sad. I think you get an Oscar for this one.
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