Simple moments filled with love and chocolate chip cookies. Isn’t that what truly matters?
Chocolate chip cookies are one of my favorite things. They’re special because that’s what we fixed the night I was in labor. Well, Bret fixed them…I leaned over the counter and swayed back and forth. I think my job was a little harder, but, man, those cookies were good. Since that night, we have made these cookies countless times. They are the first ones that my little man and I made together. They are THE tastiest. This recipe was named best chocolate chip cookie by the NY Times.
The little moments often make me the happiest. Watching our little learn how to dip his cookie in milk just like his Daddy is just one of the many. This feels so special to me. Maybe it’s because I know the simple times are the ones we will miss the most. My heart leaps, I take a deep breath, and I can’t wipe the smile off from my face…it’s just there. I’ve been trying to enjoy moments without the need to photograph them. Being a part of the moment is much more important. What I do is take a minute to enjoy and be a part of it. Then I run to grab my camera for just a couple, or few, quick pictures. I love being behind the camera, but it’s not the only place I want my family to remember me. Remembering to do both is my happy middle.
Another one of my favorite things is this old Coca-Cola crate my dear friend Dawn and her incredible in-laws gave me. It was filled with old Coke bottles that I put up in a safe place. We (meaning “I”) decided to use it as an art center. It holds everything (besides paper) that Steff would need for a typical art project. It’s easily accessible so he can do this any time he wants. He even knows how to get water now, so he grabs water for the water paints. I so desperately want art to be a part of our every day. I want him to feel comfortable expressing this side of his personality. It can be such a great place to express anger, sadness, joy and to just have fun when that’s exactly what you need. It makes my heart so happy to see him reach for a paint brush. I haven’t quite connected it to calming down, but we’ll get there. We have been working on his (and my) breathing. It seems to really be working for the time being. 🙂
And lastly, I just love him (well, obviously not lastly because I do love lots of things, like…I dunno…God and my husband 🙂 but we’ll save that for another post). I love watching him move and talk and laugh. I love when he’s concentrating and working really hard on something. He puckers his lips (has since he was a baby) and crunches his eyebrows together. I know why parents can act like their child is the only one on Earth to ever…walk. lol. Every. Single. Thing. He. Does…truly stops me in my tracks. I think about how fast he’s growing and how, just last week, he couldn’t do this or that. The first three months of his life went by so slow that it felt like time was standing still. Since the, it has flown by. I know that soon he will be too big for me to hold, his hands will feel different in mine and I will hold them much less. I know the thought of those days is too much to bear, but when I’m in them, I will love them as well for what they are. Each age…each stage…offers something different and something wonderful. I know I’ll ache to snuggle him in my arms or to watch him learn and move. I’ll yearn to hear him, even the winey voice, ask me a question or say “momma” or that sweet little way he says “peas” (aka “please”).
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