I have been inspired by Toyfoto, author of the blog Ittybits & Pieces to write this post. She wrote a letter to her 13-month-old son about all the things about him that have changed in his short life and how she hopes to keep all these fond memories of this time in his life. Well, when I got my 2-year-old daughter up this morning, I thought of that post as I looked at her squinty eyes, still so full of sleep. I picked her up and inhaled the scent of her, which was sweet and citrusy, combined with the smell of sleep and laundry detergent. It was such a beautiful smell that I had to keep putting my nose to her head. But what I noticed about the smell, after a moment of taking it in, was that it wasn't the smell of a baby. It certainly wasn't an adult scent; it was much more pure and magical than that. And it wasn't quite the smell of my 8-year-old in the morning, either. It was this "little girl" smell that, although beautiful and intoxicating, was not the smell of a baby.
My little girl is growing up. The tiny, wiggling little creature that I took home from the hospital is becoming more independent; she can feed herself and knows how to use the television remote. I can have conversations with her, and she can tell me what she wants when she wants it. (And oh, she does!) Although I am sad about this transition from babyhood to toddlerhood, I am also excited and looking forward to all the new things she is going to learn and experience. I just hope I can make sure she understands how magical these experiences are and knows how boundless her possibilities are.
Some people would say that this revelation means that it is time for another baby. I don't think so. I am still enjoying my daughter's journey way too much, and couldn't even imagine another baby in this picture. I know I have enough love and attention for another, but the fact is, I am content with what I have. And there have very rarely been times in my life when I could say that -- and actually mean it.