Little Love

In the past two weeks Sabine has learned to ride her tricycle, been completely potty trained and has been accepted to preschool for the fall. Every time I tell her she will soon be going to school, I also tell her that I won't be there with her but that I will miss her and wish she was home with me. And each time, she answers, "No, mama. I need to go to school." That kid is like a bucket of cold water on my head, constantly shaking me out of any romantic notions of motherhood. She moves much faster through stages than I'd like her to. Sometimes I want to just keep her small and under my wing forever and ever.

My size has caused me to be much less patient with her and I feel guilty about it. When I'm driving us around and hoping for a mental moment to myself, I look through the rearview mirror and see her singing along to Prince. She says, "C'mon mama," so I will sing along with her and then I just melt. Or sometimes, in a display of affection, she holds my face in her hands and says, "I so prow uh you, mama. I uh you." (Translation: I'm so proud of you, mama. I love you.)

Even though I'm eight months pregnant and she weighs thirty pounds, I still pick her up when she asks, "Hold you me?" (Translation: Hold me?) And I plan on doing so for as long as I possibly can because I know a day is coming soon where she will either be too big to carry or too independent to want her mama to hold her anymore.