Last night I sat in the bath tub. A beachy scented candle lit. A bath bomb had dyed the water pink. I sipped a glass of wine and listened to pandora on my phone. I didn't read a magazine or text or think of all the productive things I should probably be doing instead. I sat there and closed my eyes and listened past my music to hear Brian reading to Hartley downstairs. Of course, she was out of sorts yesterday so I heard some cries here and there. And I just thought to myself, life is good. This is my version of perfect.
Sure, every day I carry around some extra pounds I'd love to magically have disappear. I'd like 5 extra minutes in my shower to shave my legs. And I tell myself all the time, one of these days I'm going to do some deep cleaning, not to mention organization overhaul to my house. But those, I'm learning, are the teeny little details in this life that just don't matter as much these days.
I let my email and text response time slide so I don't have to stop holding my daughter to answer a question that can wait. At first I thought, I'm so bad for not responding earlier. And the truth is, these moments of Hartley clinging on to me in her sleep won't last forever. I brainstorm blogs but never feel like sitting down to write them. I'd rather watch her discover herself in a mirror and swat like a mad woman at some silly plastic toys. The minute I think of taking time out to tweeze my eyebrows or maybe even paint my nails, I always think I'd really rather spend that time talking to Brian on the couch instead. And when he sends me upstairs for my me time (bath time) while he spends daddy daughter time with Hartley, I sometimes "forget" things downstairs so I can come back down and watch their snuggles. Or even their crazy "Hartley loves to cry right now" moments.
I was doing laundry yesterday, and I saw baby throw up all over Brian's Georgetown shirt. And I thought, what did we do to deserve this life, to be so lucky. What did we do to deserve to find true love and make a beautiful, healthy baby? And I thought about how life finally seems complete. There will be dirty diapers, baby throw up, jeans that just won't fit, dirt and laundry that regenerate at an unreal speed, days where crying is the soundtrack of our lives, and yet, I know that this is what matters most to me in life. This little person who is going to grow up, and I get the privilege to be her one and only mom through all of it. I am and will always be her biggest fan.
And we start our foundation now. Snuggled in a chair, I'm writing this with her in my lap. And she sleeps on me like it truly is her favorite place to sleep.
Hartley,
You complete my life. I can't wait for all the beautiful, wonderful things life has in store for you. And I hope to be one of the first people you share all of them with. I probably will be a helicopter mom. If that's what it means to watch you so closely and overload you with an unmeasurable amount of love. You and I already break the rules. I let you get messier than I should. On one of your crib training nights, you cried too much and I scooped you up and had you sleep in my room. Your bedtime is super late but this way we have family time. I'm taking in all of your baby time. Remembering it's going to go by too fast. Knowing I'll blink and be walking you to the school bus and blink again and dad will be walking you down the aisle.
I love you. And our good life. And you make that good life the best.
Love,
Your mama
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