Heed My Warnings: Don't Blink

In a few weeks she'll be seven and I hate everyone who tells me I can't stop it from happening. I will find a way, screw you all. I hate time, its a bitch. I hate first grade, its old. And I hate that my baby is old.

I try to pick her up and hold her on my lap like she's an infant. It doesn't work. She's too tall, her legs too long. Who is this kid? She can read and write, she is losing her baby teeth, she is playing soccer, she's just this giant version of the baby she used to be. She's a kid, I can no longer deny it.

When she was born I made a mental list of firsts. First steps, first food, first time sitting up by herself. They were all baby firsts. I didn't give even a second thought to all of her kid firsts. First day of school, first friend, first field trip. And the one that still blows my mind, the first time she read me a book. This little person who I made, she reads me stuff. Lots of stuff. Pinkalicious? Read it. Pete the Cat? That's old news. If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? Been there, done that. She is a reading machine, and I still can't wrap my head around it.

When I wake up every morning and look at her, it never fails to amaze me how big she is. It must happen overnight, or when I'm looking away, or maybe even when she is at school. There's no way its already been 7 years of Alana here with me, growing up right in front of my face without me noticing. Maybe she's not really that big, maybe I'm dreaming and in reality she is actually a tiny little baby who sleeps on my chest and makes me watch stupid Little Einsteins, not a kid who takes up half of the bed and makes me watch Teen Beach Movie. That's possible right? Especially the part where Teen Beach Movie doesn't really exist and I don't have to listen to it every day? Tell me it was all a dream, no more Teen Beach Movie!!! 

Oh Alana, stop being old. Stop it right now. Let's just pretend that you're 3 again and you can talk in a little squeaky voice and sing Twinkle Twinkle to me every day and just be little and cute again. Instead of big and cute. That's a realistic request, right?

One is the Loneliest Number

Oh my boy, how has it already been a whole year since I first met you, first held you? I already miss that 8 pound boy who curled up on my chest every night, I miss watching you sleep and pretending that I had nothing else I had to do, pretending I could just hold you forever. The newborn phase is so fleeting, plus there are so many emotions that go with it. You were tiny for just a minute, and while I was looking away you grew up.

There were days when you were sleeping when I would just sit and watch you, then obsessively take dozens of photos of your tiny perfect lips, trying to remember forever how small you started out. If I could've held you for every nap you took I would've, and now looking back I wish I'd held you more, stared at you more, smelled that new baby smell on your neck even more.

When you were only one month old Alana started kindergarten, which made our lives a little busier. Gone were the days of sitting around our house all day, suddenly I had to pick you up mid-nap to get Alana from school. A little piece of me died every time I had to wake you up from a nap to get into the car. I hated that part. But you were a trooper, you usually went back to sleep in your carseat, accepting the lot in life that is being the youngest child. I guess in a way you kind of got jipped, being the youngest. You never got to just stay home all day with me, sitting around. You came out and were a man on the go, having to take your naps at the playground and in your seat at the grocery store. I'm sorry for that dude, but there's not much I can do about it.

As every month went by, I sat in disbelief at how big you were growing. Your crazy brown hair stood on end for awhile, till it grew long enough to lay down just based on it weight. Your perfect boy lips grew more kissable, and you kept on stealing my heart everyday. When you learned to smile you were stingy with them at first, mostly reserving them for me which I didn't mind at all. I don't know if you were trying to be the strong and silent type or not, but you abandoned that after not too long.

Every milestone you took made me both happy and sad. I was happy for you, but sad for me. Not that I didn't want you to grow and learn, but growing up is a hard thing to watch for me. I'm glad to be here to see it, but I hate that it has to happen.

The weird thing about seeing your baby grow up is that it happens both slowly and quickly. Some days it seems like they will never learn to sit up, then you can't remember a time when they couldn't sit up. The first year includes so many milestones that its hard to even grasp the concept that one year ago this person who is pushing cars around the room and making Vroom, Vroom! noises was just a little 8 pound guy who stared back at me after getting evicted, unsure of why it was just so bright and loud.

Every holiday we celebrated with you was bittersweet, because it was my "last" first holiday. Your first Christmas? My "last" first Christmas. Your first Halloween? My "last" first Halloween. Now you've run out of first holidays, and so have I.

I don't even know how to come to terms with you turning one. I guess I have no choice really, you are one, there's nothing I can do about it. You don't always let me hold you and snuggle you anymore, you want down to play with cars. You begrudgingly let me kiss you, but only reciprocate with slobbery open mouth kisses half of the time. If you didn't still nurse you would probably never sit on my lap contentedly, just happy to be with me. You have stuff to do, things to get into, objects to break. And I understand, I guess. We all grow up, move on, but why you? Why my baby, and so soon?

Before I know it you will be going off to do things without me, independent and wild and free. And I will cry, but that won't stop you. You have to do it, its part of life. Not my favorite part, but one of the parts that I can't change.

I just hope you know my dude that even though it makes me sad to see how you've grown, I wouldn't trade my front row seat to it for anything. Not even all the cookies in the world, and we all know how much I love cookies.

Little Things to Remember

The other night after Alana was asleep I sat in her room for awhile (because of course she had fallen asleep in my room). I looked around at what six years with this little girl has turned into. It may be a "shared" room with Ava, Witten even has a tiny blue shelf in there too, but it has been Alana's territory for much longer. If I had no more Alana, which I don't even like to consider, I could never go in that room again. Every little thing in there has been touched by her little hands and fingers with their chipped pink nail polish. There are leaves she collected from my sister's front yard, a macaroni necklace she made at school, snowglobes that she picked out at Disneyland and MouseEar hats with her name embroidered on them. That room is full of her.

Last Friday this happened and it freaked me out a little. Every day of this week when I dropped my first baby off at school I was sad. I hugged her tighter. School should be a safe place, I want her to feel like nothing bad will happen to her there. I want to feel like nothing bad will happen to her there. But the reality of the world that we live in is harsh. Bad things happen. They happen to good people, young people, old people, babies, little innocent kids. They happen to everybody. I wake up everyday with the notion that none of those things will happen to me or my family, but that is just a lie we all tell ourselves so that we can leave our houses without being afraid of everything.

I know people have "recovered" from losing children. Little children, babies, or grown children. But I don't know how. How can you even tie your shoes and sit on your couch and function when there is such a big piece of you missing. I love all three of my kids, but the absense of even one of them would leave me unable to breathe.

We all take our kids for granted. On Friday after I picked Alana up and hugged her and squeezed her I brought her home. She acted like her usual wild self and drove me a little bit crazy, fighting with Ava and eating nonstop before dinner. I wanted to tell her to calm herself down, but I was grateful just to have her to be there annoying me when so many other parents had their wild six year olds taken from them that day.

I'm glad that its almost Christmas break because I need some time. Time to not be so petrified to take my child to school everyday, leaving her there and trusting that she will be okay. There were even rumors going around that some idiot high school kids were going to bring guns to school tomorrow. These rumors were not taken lightly and there have been lots of cops at the school all this week. The secretary even reassured me that if she really thought there was a threat she wouldn't be there. I guess that helps a little, but I'm trusting these people with a priceless possession. Sending my baby to school everyday was hard enough before, I already missed her every minute that she was gone. Sending her to school with even the faintest thought that I could never hold her, see her, or hug her again makes me want to throw up.

I don't want to let my fear of the bad guys of the world affect how Alana lives her life. I want to hug her and raise her to be an independent person, but why does independence involve so much leaving me? Can't she be an independent and a successful doctor/teacher/singer/whatever and still live at home with me till she is 40? Or 50? Why do children insist on growing up and moving out? Who thought of this idea? I would like to have a word with them.

More than anything I just want to remember to appreciate my kids. I need to remember how tightly Alana hugs my neck, how she sings as loudly as possible whenever there is a good song on, how she is friends with everyone and never holds a grudge, how she draws me masterpieces everyday that I will never throw away, how she insists she is starving after school and snacks till she is full so she doesn't want dinner, and how I would do anything to keep her safe and here with me.

I'm trusting the world with my baby, I hope it doesn't let me down. But I've got my eye on you world, don't try any funny business or you'll have to answer to me.