Six years since I had my first unplanned love baby. Six years of holding, knowing, kissing, desperately loving this creature who left parts of herself behind when she left my body, and took parts of me with her out into the world.
She is just six years old, but already I can see she will take everything I have given her and will give her, and she will use it to go places I can never touch.
She loves the monkey bars and riding her bike. Her favorite toys are Legos and American girl dolls (both real and knock-off). She takes dance and Spanish. She recently fell in love with bowling. She runs like the wind. She is uber sensitive, and willful and headstrong. She likes to make things, especially wearable things. She adores the giving and receiving of gifts. She’s all about hair. She styles her curls and accessorizes them like a pro. A sweet mother working in her classroom told me that she reads with the most gusto and drive. She makes art every day at our kitchen table. Yesterday it was a picture of a cupcake and a glass of water. She leaves me little love notes around the house. Drawings of hearts, flowers, my name, the two of us, and most recently these words: I like mom.
I like you, too, baby.