The confused, desperate way you used to look at me when you were brand new.
Sleeping in a big pile in the bed, you on daddy's chest and me snuggled up to his side, face to face with you.
The first time I heard you cry.
The first time I saw you smile and knew you meant it.
The way you start sucking air when you see the bottle coming.
The way you stare at the triangular black handle of your car seat like it's telling you government secrets.
Watching you lay on daddy's chest and lift your head up to look him in the eye...at two weeks old.
Watching you plump up from a withered, little old man into a chubby little buddha and being so proud.
How closely you resemble Jack Nicholson in The Shining when you raise your eyebrows. You deranged little thing, you.
Listening to you complain yourself to sleep on my shoulder.
Realizing you were too small for newborn sizes.
Realizing you fit in newborn sizes.
Realizing you were outgrowing newborn sizes. Stop growing, please.
Stopping at the side of the road along the river at sunset to feed you.
The way you pant when you're excited.
The way you smile when I sing you to sleep.
The way you smile in your sleep when I sing to you.
The way you used to grab at your face while you ate.
The way you were always able to get your arms out when we swaddled you to keep you from grabbing at your face.
How you keep managing to pee on your own back while you're being changed.
And how no one has ever managed to figure out how you do it.
The first outfit I ever considered throwing away because of what you'd done to it.
Deciding to name you Ezra over breakfast at daddy's favorite restaurant.
How you never cooperated during the ultrasounds.
Realizing you have opinions. Dear God, do you have opinions.
Realizing you like having your feet rubbed.
The feeling of being the person who knows you best.
The feeling of being the person you like best.
The feeling of being your mom.
The thousand other things I know I've already forgotten.
Comments