Baby Body : The Aftermath

If you remember, I posted about what pregnancy was doing to my body in my semi-weekly updates.

Stretch marks? Yes. Not many. Fairly light. Named Judy.
Cellulite? YES EVERYWHERE SO GROSS
Pizza face? Yes hello I was 14 again.

That was about it. I never got the amazing hair and nails others get. At the very end, my ankles would swell up if I was on my feet too long but it wasn't a regular thing. I never got a linea nigera. I'm not taking the time to Google the right spelling of that so if it's wrong I hope you know what I mean, and I'm sure you probably do, and if you don't, well, you're just being an ass now. My boobs were always big. They may have gotten bigger, but after "enormous" you just kind of lose track. Extra enormous?

(Of course I couldn't let that go so I Googled it and it's nigra not nigera. Damn.)

So mostly I was dealing with some stretch marks, a lot of cellulite, and a face that looked like I rubbed it in deep fat fryer grease every night.

And of course the somewhere between 30 and 60 pounds of baby weight I gained. (I honestly don't know how much it was - I never looked at a scale and just asked the doctor to let me know if I needed to gain more or less.) (Hint: It was not 30.)

Oh. And a big ass scar across my belly. That too.

Almost a year later, I am most pleased to report that everything has gone back to normal for the most part. The stretch marks are super faint and barely visible - Chris claims to not see them at all (aww, thanks for the lies, honey!). The cellulite, miracle of miracles, has DISAPPEARED, or at least returned to pre-pregnancy levels (and actually I think it's less, since I lost weight overall). The pizza face took nine months but it's finally better too.  I'm down to my pre-pregnancy weight plus some (why? nursing + less time to eat + no more fast food!). The c-section scar is flat and light.

All in all, pregnancy did not wreck my body in the ways that I had anticipated.

There was one unexpected casualty, though.

MY ASS.

In that I have none. I have no ass. I always had a cute little (at times big) butt. No longer. It's gone. It's flat as a pancake. It doesn't fill out jeans or tight skirts anymore. I'm not sure I wore enough tight skirts before I lost it. If you still have an ass, go put on a tight skirt. If you ever lose an ass as I have, I wouldn't want you to worry that you didn't wear enough tight skirts when you had one.

Goodbye, booty (my new more motherly term). I hardly knew ye.

Letters to Carrots : Month Ten

April 7 - May 7, 2012

Dear Carys,

You are now ten months old. You have now existed outside of my body for as long as you were inside.  In the "inside" ten months, you went from a tiny cluster of cells to a newborn baby who breathed and sucked and looked at the world in wonder. In the "outside" ten months, you went from a helpless, tiny little thing to an unstoppable force of nature who talks and moves and discovers and delights.  And makes messes.

My god, the messes you make. If something is in a drawer, you take it out. If something is on the couch, you pull it off. If something is in a bag, you pull it out. Books on shelves. Off. Items in my purse. Scattered. Clean laundry. On the floor. Socks in a basket. Thrown. Babylegs. Tossed. We used to call your Aunt Jenna "The Pink Tornado" because of the swath of messes she made wherever she went, but you are a tornado and hurricane and tidal wave all in one.  My little baby natural disaster.

     

(Yes, you put the drum on yourself)

 

In fact, it's hard to call you a baby anymore. You look and act more like a toddler every day.

Your newest trick? Scaling the stairs...up is old news, but now you go down too.  You will go up and down five stairs over and over. To go down, you sit on the edge and scoot your butt out, reaching with your leg and foot and toes until you can touch just touch the stair below. But you're starting to go down backwards, too, which is much faster for you and much more nerve-wracking for your mother.

You are, I think, just weeks (maybe days) away from walking. You take three or so steps and will be a split second from falling the entire time; the momentum of your forward movement being all that keeps you upright. But you take your push toy, piled with kitchen towels and your lovey, up and down the hallway until I get sick of turning you around.

(Please ignore the carpet...the dog tracked in a ton of mud 

and I haven't had a chance to have a carpet guy out yet. Sigh.)

For someone who can't really walk yet, you're incredibly self-assured in your movements.  Given a helping hand, you'll quite literally take off running.  I don't think you quite realize that you can't do it on your own yet. In the meantime, you "real" crawl all the time now and have been since just days after you turned nine months. Your army crawling days are long gone. And you remain quite the daredevil, climbing everything you can, dropping down from the bed to the floor, trusting that it will somehow work out.

 

You have gone from baby babbling to something different. It's still nonsense words and sounds, for the most part, but now your sentences have weight and meaning. "Da da ga BA da?" you'll ask. "Ga! Ga ma dog ri me!" Your phrases end in a lilt, or with a definitive sound. And yes, that is "dog" in there. You follow Riley around all day saying "Dog! Dog! Dog!" I suppose mama and dada don't hold nearly the allure that the big shiny black thing does; that thing who, frankly, is sick of you and hoping you'll go back to wherever you came from already.  I believe you also say "dada" but your dad isn't quite ready to call that one yet.  When you're in the right mood, you'll repeat sounds endlessly. At Carol's house for Aunt Jenna's shower, you chased the cat around saying, "Kee! Kee!" I told you "I love you" and you parroted back, "I oo!"  Samar taught you to say "vroom, vroom!"as you push your toy cars around (though you say "rooo, rooo!"). You've also mimicked "blue," "pepper," "Riley," and "ovaraptor." Yes, really.

Sunny and I took you and Charlotte to a sign language class, and the instructor told us that frustration was the number one reason small children acted out. I can already see that in you: if I close a bottle of water that you weren't done with, you'll holler. To combat that, I'm trying to be diligent with the signs that I'm teaching you now; I half-heartedly started around six months but the only one I did regularly was "all done." And you caught onto that quickly: if I do the "all done" sign while you're eating, you'll push the highchair tray away from you and try to take your bib off. So I'm attempting to work "milk," "drink," "eat," and "more" into our daily routine, and "please," "thank you," "no," "touch," "share," "up," "dirty," and "hurt" in as well, although I'm not quite as fervent with those ones. You picked up "milk" after like two minutes and will come crawling across the room to get to me if I sign that to you.

You have developed several hilarious habits, my favorite of which is your big fake smile. I think you discovered how to smile purposefully (rather than by instinct), so you put those muscles to work and end up with a wonderful cheesy smile that scrunches up your nose and eyes and shows off those two bottom teeth. Sometimes your eyes close entirely. Sometimes you tilt your head back. Of the many, many things that I never want to forget about you as a baby, this smile is one of the top ones.

You also started blowing raspberries, sometimes for what seems like hours on end. You learned to do it with your lips months ago, but just in the last few weeks learned to do it with your tongue (a true raspberry).




Another goofy thing? Your fake cough. You may have learned that from Baby Leah, but wherever you picked it up from, it never fails to make me laugh, and you delight in people fake coughing back to you.

You've bettered my life in so many ways, but one big one is you've made me healthier. I haven't had fast food or anything too "fake" since you started eating with me. You are such a great eater; so far you haven't rejected anything I've tried. Pesto tortellini. Crab-stuffed sole. Turkey meatballs. Chimichurri salmon. Brussel sprouts. Peas. And of course, coconut sorbet.

(fake smile on top right!)

You love to put your feet up on things or push against things. If you're laying in bed with me, you'll drape your feet over my legs. If you're nursing, you'll bring your foot up and kick it against my shoulder. If you're in your high chair, they're pushing against the table. If we're reading books in the rocker, you'll push against the dresser or put your feet in the books. I think you get this from me. I always have to have my feet on something, too. If your dad makes fun of you, blame me.

You got a big bump on your head a couple of weeks ago while we were visiting Becky and Baby Leah.  You leaned forward into their coffee table and BAM! Immediate, big, dark bruise and bump. You cried so hard; I felt awful. Of course, you refused to let me put ice on it, the one thing that would have helped you feel better (Besides some comfort nursing, which....yeah. I love being able to provide you relief and comfort any time!). Then last night we were at a wedding with you, and you fell forward and banged your chin on one of the folding table legs.  Today, you have a big dark bruise on your chin. You are a walking (crawling) disaster. I have a feeling I may need to print out copies of this blog as proof of your recklessness and daring, because I think after your third broken arm the hospital is going to call CPS on us.

 

In other health news, the pediatrician finally broke down and prescribed antibiotics to us for your ongoing ear infection, which she believes is caused by your ongoing teething. You hate the antibiotics and are quite certain that I'm attempting to murder you when I administer them, so I mixed them in with some sweet purees and gave them to you that way. You have a sneaky mom. I will always win! Remember that.

Speaking of teeth, still just the bottom two, but you can literally SEE the top two trying to pop through your top gums. You wake up in the middle of the night sometimes just sobbing in agony and I wish I could take the pain away. It's not fair. If it wasn't for those damn teeth, this would probably be my favorite age.

You went to two wedding showers for your Aunt Jenna, one at Carol's and one at a tea room. You were positively delightful at both (though they put us in the corner in the tea room, which was a TERRIBLE move on their part, as we were farthest from the door and the walls were covered with hangings...you may have been the first baby ever to attend tea there. Whoops.).  You loved "helping" open presents. Well, you loved the tissue paper, at least.

In your shower finery

You do NOT love dresses, as you can't crawl in them. You try, and try to do this goofy one-kneed gorilla butt scoot thing, but you get tripped up and don't know what to do. I usually bring a change of clothes and put you in something that actually allows movement after everyone has had a chance to coo over your cuteness. It's kind of a shame because you have a lot of darling summer dresses, but we'll wait on putting them on you until you can walk.  (Why are girls' clothes so impractical?!?)

We went on a playdate the other day, at the Westroads play area, and every time we meet up with other kids you just blow my mind. After an initial shy period where you adorably bury your head in my shoulder, you are so outgoing and friendly. Other kids flock to you, and you to them. I watched you crawl off to a group of slightly older kids and play with them in the tunnel. At one point you were in the tunnel, back against one side and feet up on the other, with two kids on either side of you.  Another time we went to the Aksarben Park with Sunny and you took off across the park, not caring whether I was behind you. You then found a group of slightly older kids and worked yourself into their activities.

And I marvel. Here you are, this baby (and no matter how much you LOOK like a toddler, you are, in truth, still a baby) making friends with and communicating with kids one and two and three years older than you.  At those moments, you didn't need me. You didn't look back at me or look for me. You were confident and content in exploring and going off on your own and forging your own path to new little friendships, and I couldn't have been more proud of you. You want to be a big kid so badly.

 

You are growing so fast, little one. Your legs are so long. Your hair gets wavier and curlier. Your eyes continue to mystify me, your tiny teeth peek through, you get taller (so tall!), and smarter and stronger and braver and sweeter and funnier. You are, in a word, perfect. And the best part? You aren't actually perfect, but you're perfect for me. I would not trade you for the world. Not even if the world offered 100 gallons of free coconut sorbet.

I love you, babycakes.

SO MUCH.

Love,
Mama

Live Blogging a Bachelorette Party

9:00pm: First to the strip club. Awkward. I'm just going to wait in my car until they get here.

9:08pm: Two big groups just got out of the car and stumbled in. Shit. I can't tell if "my" bride is there.
9:09pm: Text bride. "Are you here?" (I don't text speak...I just can't bring myself to do it unless the situation is dire, like I am holding a poopy baby with one hand and fending off armed soldiers with the other.)
9:15pm: No response. Shit. I'll go in and look.
9:16pm: SHIT. It's too dark. I can't tell if any of these groups are mine. I'm not walking around a male strip club to peer at people in the dark.
9:20pm: Text from bride. "Just got here! On our way in!" .
9:21pm: Ugh. They all look adorable and super young. Why do I even TRY looking cute? I look like I could be the bride's mother, or at least dowdy older sister. I'm too old for this.

9:21pm: Also, this.

9:30pm: Bride downs 8 mini shots. Wow. Shit just got real.

10:00pm: Tiny energetic man is on stage dancing like a jackrabbit. This is weird. They are barefoot. That looks weird. I don't know what they should do but barefoot is just....weird. This explains stripper shoes.
10:05pm: Bride called to stage. SO glad I didn't do this for my bachelorette party. SO GLAD. Banana hammock IN THE FACE.

10:30pm: Jackrabbit guy working the floor. Spoke too soon. Banana hammock in MY face. Great, now I have stripper on me. (Below is not jackrabbit guy.  It was just like this, only with me and without the pecs. I also had pec-guy in my face later.)

11:00pm: New guy. Cute face. HORRIBLE dancer.
11:03pm: OMG HE JUST FELL OFF THE STAGE I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING HE JUST FLEW OFF THE POLE AND OFF THE STAGE AND INTO THE CROWD NOTHING ELSE MATTERS, EVER.

The fallen shortly after the falling.

TRUE STORY.

A Day in the Life of a 9 Month Old

8:00AM to 8:00PM, with a four hour break for naps: "OMG. OMG. What is going on here? SOMETHING IS IN, ON, UNDER, BETWEEN, OR ANY OTHER PREPOSITION, SOMETHING ELSE. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO???? I MUST RECTIFY THIS IMMEDIATELY." [pulls out all the socks, cups, books, DVDs, or whatever else may have offended her delicate decorating or storage sensibilities]

A Family of Four

It's been long enough since Carys was born that people are starting to ask about when we're going to have more children (because, as is everything with children, it's totally their business!).

I know I want more children. At least one more, if not two or three more. I'm probably slightly crazy. I love kids. I loved being pregnant. I definitely want siblings for Carys. I was one of four, and enjoyed the larger family. Chris is on board for one more for sure and says "we'll talk" about more beyond that. But I don't really "need" his "permission" for more after that. JUST KIDDING I WILL NOT STEAL HIS SPERM I SWEAR. I'll borrrow it. He'll get it back! In the form of a child!  KIDDING AGAIN.  I'll beg and cajole.

Right now, I am enjoying doting on Carys and giving her my full attention. I love being able to attend to her needs fully without having to worry about anyone else needing me. I love spending time rocking her to sleep, the occasional bed-sharing, the nursing, the exclusive bond we have, the state of the three of us.  I am loathe to interrupt it. I am loathe to split attention, share my love. It'd be nice if, when I was pregnant or caring for a newborn, she was old enough to play by herself and a little more understanding of a tired mom, whereas with a toddler it's GO GO GO MOM MOM GO GO PLAY MOM HEY MOM PLAY ATTENTION MOM. Although she very well may be GO GO GO at three or four or five too.

On the other side: old eggs. Time. Not wanting to wait too long. I'm 31. I know that's not old old, but in reproductive terms, it's getting there. And I don't want to decide we're ready for a sibling (or two) and then not be able to do it because we waited too long. I know trying tomorrow doesn't guarantee a sibling, but the odds are better than if we wait three or four years. I want the kids fairly close together.  I love the idea of two close in age because their interests and abilities will be closer together.  I'd rather deal with two kids in diapers concurrently and be done with it than deal with it for a longer period of time. I don't want to store all of this baby stuff (let's be real: this SHIT) for years and years. And I already miss being pregnant and get newborn fever every time I see a tiny little baby.

(Side note about old ass eggs: At work today I heard two kids talking about the strip club that they went to over the weekend and one of them said, "She was talking to me and said she was almost thirty! She didn't move like an almost-thirty-year-old!" Were they expecting a walker? Is almost thirty the new eighty?)

Not that I can do anything right now: mother nature is still withholding her monthly gift. I'm sure she thinks she's doing me a favor since I've cursed it since day one but HEY LADY. You aren't. Well, I guess you are in that you're making it easier for now as I can delay having to make the decision. But as I would like to nurse until Carys is two, eventually I might have to make the tough decision whether to wean her before either of us are ready so we can start trying, or to wait until my "ideal" 18-24 month gap and possibly the option of a second or third kid down the line is gone (or greatly diminished, at least).

One thing I have to remember is that even if I got pregnant tomorrow, I'd still have a full nine (almost ten!) months with Carys alone. The new baby wouldn't be coming home with us the day I found out. We'd have plenty of time to adjust and I'd have many more months as a family of three before I had to even start thinking about what it would be like as a family of four.

So we'll likely start trying as soon as that usually-unwelcome-but-for-a-month-or-two-welcome-and-then-she'd-better-leave-again-only-this-time-because-I'm-knocked-the-heck-up visitor returns. If it hasn't returned by July, I'll have to start thinking seriously about whether to wean or re-think our family plans entirely.

Letters to Carrots : Month Nine

March 7 - April 7, 2012

 Dear Carys,

Carys, you, my joyful little daredevil. Living with you is like living with a tiny acrobat, mountaineer, and escape artist all in one.  I think you are brilliant, of course, and beautiful. Strong and adventurous and everything good in the world. You are a go-getter, nature-lover, and explorer. You love being outside.  This is not new this month, but you hate to be strapped or held down, whether that's getting into a car seat, a stroller, the high chair, or just grabbed for a big bear hug. You want down. You want out. You want to go! Also not new, but worth noting: you hate to be covered up. It could be freezing and you could be wearing just a diaper, but if you're awake, you'll kick the covers off and pull them off so your legs and arms are free. This also explains why nursing with a cover doesn't work for us: you.

March was unseasonably warm (as was January...and February) so we spent a lot of time outside, taking walks, going on bike rides, and just exploring. You will make a beeline to the deck doors if they are open to try to get outside.

You've really gotten the hang of "real" crawling versus just army crawling and often do that more than army crawl (as I'm writing this, a few days after your nine-month milestone, you "real" crawl all the time).  However, you'd much rather just walk. Not that you CAN, mind you, but you think you can and you often will take off cruising down the couch and forget that you need to hold something when you get to the end and crash.  If someone is holding your hands, you take off faster than they can keep up.  You will try to walk at any time and just assume that someone is there to help you - even when they aren't.

 

One thing you do the I've been meaning to document - and you've done it for a while, months maybe - is to pat my back when I pick you up, just like I pat your back. "It's okay, mama, I love you," I imagine you saying (as I say to you).

The milestones seem smaller, now, or maybe it's just that there are so many of them so constantly. When you were a newborn, it was big when you discovered that you had feet - constant companions and playthings! Every little thing was an entry in the baby book. Now it seems to take something big to garner the same level of excitement, because every minute is something new. Oh, look! You learned how to put things in a container. Oh, look! You wave at appropriate times. Oh, look! You recognize what a drawer is and will open any in sight. Oh, look! You can crawl over the rungs of a chair. Oh, look! You can go down stairs.  You do so much now, it's easier to think of what you don't do. Somethings I don't know when you started: it was gradual or maybe just a small change. Like gripping me with your knees when I carry you on my hip. Like looking at your dad when we say "dada." Waving at the right moments. Crawling with something in your hand. Now it's big things that get entries, like "Real crawling!"

You still love me, your mama, and want me around as much as possible...on your terms. If I leave you, you cry. But if you leave me? It's fine. Often I'll be putting away laundry with you playing at my feet only to look down a minute later and you're gone and I'll have to go on a baby hunt to find you (you're QUICK!).  You're down the hall and into the kitchen or bathroom or other bedroom in seconds (usually, of course, headed right to the electrical outlets...thank god for baby proofing!).  You also like heading for the stairs, where you try to go down them. You like heading for the sliding doors, where you try to go out them. You like heading for the cabinets, where you try to open them. You love crawling up the stairs at your aunt Kimber's new apartment - a trick I didn't even know you had in your repertoire and so was shocked to see you take off up the stairs!

We love picnics and playdates, especially with our baby friends Charley and Leah. I'm so excited to see you all grow together, our three little girls. You don't have any cousins your own age, so I think it's important to have you around other kids all the time.

At nine months, about the only store-bought toy that can hold your attention for longer than a few minutes is your B. Zany activity cube, which was about the best purchase of my life since you've loved it since you were three months old and would play with it in my lap.

What other things entertain you? The dog. Dog food. Dog water. Cabinets. Drawers. Computers. DVD shelves. Cat food at Nana and Grandpa's. Water glasses (your favorite game: putting your hand in a glass of freezing cold water and splashing around until it turns red and then switching hands while the cold one warms up, and then switching again and again and again). Spoons. The dishwasher. Cords. Electrical outlets (replaced with baby-safe ones just in time). My camera. An unopened package of paper towels. Toilet paper. Stairs. Oh, and books. You are a girl after my own heart, Carys. You love books. Yes, you love pulling them off the shelf and making a mess, but you love reading them. You'll sit and flip through board books on your own for twenty or thirty minutes at a time. You'll sit in my lap and listen to me read as you turn the pages. You love all of them, but right now your favorites are the Flaptastic books, the Usborne Touchy Feely books, and Dear Zoo (you love the lion page).  I could keep going and list 100 that you love. Your books. My books. Dad's books. Magazines. Menus. Greeting cards. If it has anything resembling pages, you'll turn them and look at the contents.

 

Your love of books delights both me and your nana (my mom). Your uncle Jared and I spent a long weekend up in Dubuque with her a couple weeks ago (and aunt Kimber and your grandpa came up a day later) and we took to you to the aquarium and museum and you just loved every minute of it. Kimber got you a stuffed Ovaraptor that is completely adorable and I hope it becomes your favorite toy, because how funny would it be to see a toddler carrying around a stuffed dinosaur?

 

 

It was in Dubuque that you got your first bleeding injury. You sat down from a stand hard and bit your lip or your tongue (not sure which). You were crying and I was comforting you when Jared exclaimed, "Is she bleeding???"  Your mouth filled up with blood, and mouth injuries always look like they are bleeding so much, and it was a little scary. But with the help of some comfort nursing, you were over it in minutes.  You have other injuries and  bumps and bruises and scrapes from all of your adventures (actually not as many injuries as one would expect from a child who will dive headfirst off the bed in an attempt to grab something off the floor). You push your physical boundaries - you know exactly where the point you'll fall is, and you try to go just a centimeter further just to see if you can. And usually? You can!

You have the sweetest smile, the sweetest face, the sweetest laugh. Despite your go-go-go nature, you are usually completely laid back. You absolutely melt my heart every day. And you melt the hearts of everyone around you, too. You love people, and people love you back. You offer up a shy smile, wave, and hearts melt. Cashiers, waiters, people behind us in line...I can't think of a single time we've been out when you haven't utterly charmed someone.

Your aunt Kimberly and I went to a restaurant the other day and the couple behind us spent an hour playing with you over their food.  At dinner another time, the waitress came by our table every few minutes to tickle you.  You LOVE other children, especially older kids. At the play area at Westroads, you'll crawl as fast as you can over to them, but they won't notice you and will change direction and leave, so you sit up, assess the situation, and crawl to where they now area...but of course, they leave again (they usually don't even notice you trying to get to them). It's both hilarious and a little heart-wrenching.  I'm sure every mother thinks this about their child, so in reality you probably aren't a special unique flower in this regard, but in my mind? You totally are.

You love to babble in this hilarious high-pitched falsetto voice. You're starting to get a lean toddler body. Although you've always been in a high percentile for weight, you really never got a lot of chubby baby rolls or cheeks (other than those delicious chunky thighs!), and you're starting to get even taller and lose that baby belly. You have such strong legs. Your hair is a sandy golden blonde-red-brown that curls while you sleep. Your eyes are still the dark blue you were born with, but I still think they'll turn brown (though most changes occur by nine months, they can turn even at two or three years old).  It's a weird waiting game - I'm so used to these big blue eyes that if they do finally change, it will be like a whole new baby has come to live with us!

You are now the proud owner of TWO teeth, which cause you a lot of heartbreaking pain. Listening to you wake up in the middle of the night whimpering in pain, when there was nothing around to distract you, tests my resolve and patience (there is lots of cussing at the fact that you have to go through this).  The teeth have wrecked havoc on your nighttime sleep, unfortunately.

Your schedule right now is practically down to the minute - you are nothing if not reliable. You wake up between 8 and 8:30 almost every morning, and then play in bed with your dad and I for an hour or so before we got to eat breakfast (usually fruit for you).  Around 10:30 or 11 you start to get fussy and whiny, so you go down for a nap and sleep for an hour or two. When you wake up, we eat lunch (mostly veggies with a big of grains and meat), play some more, maybe go run errands or meet some baby friends for a play date.  Around 3 or 4 in the afternoon, you'll start getting fussy again and it's time for another nap of an hour or two.  When you wake up, it's more errands or playtime, and then dinner time. After dinner, it's either quiet play or bathtime, and then around 7:30 or 8 it's bedtime. You go to sleep easily, whether for nap or nighttime (I still nurse you down most nights, which I love because it's about the only time you cuddle with me).

Thanks to those wonderful teeth, you often wake up once or twice around 1 and/or 3 in the morning, but it's thankfully usually just for mere minutes before you fall asleep again. The pediatrician explained that nursing releases serotonin (I think was the hormone?), which has a calming, relaxing, and pain-lessing effect, so it is exactly what you need during those night wake-ups to get through this teething stage, and to not worry about the wakings because you'll most likely start sleeping all night again soon.

These letters are so hard to write because time flies so quickly and yet goes so slowly at the same time. I want to write about everything and nothing. Big things and little things, important things and mundane things. I just don't want to forget any of it, and I know that I'm missing things and forgetting things and have left them out.  I take pictures and take video and jot down notes, but I know that each second that passes is one that I'll never be able to relive exactly as it happened, so I try hard to cherish each moment and enjoy YOU. Just you. My silly, adorable, love bug, brilliant, daring Carys.

Love,
mama