thankful

What a tremendous week we've had. Really, it's been mellow, but tremendous in the fact that Eliana, Jeff and I have had five days of total togetherness. No work, no obligations, just time to be and play and laugh and share in all the sweetness that is this little girl right now. We shared our Thanksgiving with Jeff's folks, Eliana's Auntie Kelli and Uncle Jack, and Jack's parents, all up from Oregon. The day was lovely and calm and good. As always, it was wonderful to watch family share in the fabulousness that is my girl. Auntie Kelli, particularly, loved to hang with Elie and gave her baths, changed her nappy, and reveled in her silliness.

But what I keep coming back to are all the little things that this girl is up to these days, all the small ways she brings something new to our lives every single day. Like today when she established that her baby was, "Stinky, stinky, baby" and flapped her hand up and down in front of her nose, making a funny face, like she was smelling something bad (and, of course, she was totally on the money cuz baby was super stinky this morning!). Or the way she has learned to climb on top of every single chair and sofa and bed in the house, making for some tremendous feats for someone so small, as well as tremendous bouts of anxiety for her mama who pictures her flying backwards, but doesn't want to get in the way of her explorations and growing confidence.


There's the way she watches people at the dinner table and imitates their expressions, laughter and intonations, so trying to be a big girl and be a part of things. There is her wild, expressive face and insatiable curiosity that seems to find her way into any and everything these days. And the way she knows when she's into something she shouldn't be. She says, "No, no" and shakes her head and just sort of loiters in the naughty area (Lucy's food bowl, for example) Or the way
that she is trying to master various feats on her own these days. For example, she has this obsession with her pink, John Deere cowboy boots. She says, "Boots? Boots!", locates them, and then tries, valiantly, relentlessly, to put them on her feet. Of couse she has her rights and lefts mixed up and really can't pull them all the way on, but when I try to help her (aka, do it for her), she jerks the boot away and says, "No!" She then says, "Again!" and tries to put her boots on again. It's wild. I so want to help her out of her frustration, but she so wants to do it her way. I know the pink boots will serve as a metaphor for the separation and power struggles to come. For now, I'll watch her try to pull the little boots on to her feet, watch her tug and turn, watch her patiently and progressively attempt, yet again. I'll try to breathe in every sensation of the moment, try to commit it to my memory forever. Her crazy outfit of legwarmers and diaper, one sock on, one sock off, one right pink boot dangling off one left toe. The perpetual, runny nose. The wispy light hair. The enormous eyes and deep dimples. The playful, high pitched voice.

Write it all down, because time refuses to stop.