Wednesday is laundry day in this house, so this morning I thought I'd take the opportunity to clean through our closet and take out all the clothes that Nōweo no longer fits. I do this periodically, but over the last few weeks I've been lazily taking mental note of which outfits she couldn't wear anymore and skipping over them when I'm trying to figure out what to put her in, vowing that "tomorrow" I would sort through her shrinking wardrobe. Aaaaand in typical mommy fashion, I'm getting sentimental looking at the pile of clothes sitting on the floor that Nōweo's outgrown and will never use EVER again in her whole life.
Back in January I broke out the first onesies anyone's ever given to us. They were 12 month onesies and they seemed SO BIG and I remember clutching them to my chest and thinking to myself "I don't want her to get big enough to fit these!"
And now she is. It happened so suddenly, yet so subtly. Like the morning when it's just barely beginning to light, and it gradually gets brighter and brighter, and then all of a sudden you realize that your room is filled with sun. She fills me.
But now, I officially forbid her to get any bigger than THAT. Hhhmmmm...not likely.
What's just as marvelous to me is the way I've grown with her. I am not the same mother I was when she was born. I used to cry when I couldn't console her. Now I chuckle to myself and revel in the sound. Like a tinkling bell...okay...more like a chinese gong these days, but still. It is a sound I will miss one day.
Sometimes I miss how small she used to be, but there's nothing like that big "Mommy look what I can do" smile I get when she toddles over to me. She's becoming more and more sure-footed with each passing day. I love how proud she is over herself. I love celebrating her.
So with each passing week she sheds a thin layer of baby-hood, and like the pile of too-small clothes sitting on the floor, she grows out of old mannerisms, masters her body in new and exciting ways and introduces me to a new version of her.
I'm just holding on.