baby love

This baby loves me.

Like really, really loves me.

Like wants-to-climb-back-into-my-womb loves me.

She loves her Daddy too. And her nana's and her auntie's and her big brother and sister.

And she really loves her blankie.

But somehow Mommy still holds the biggest part of her heart.

There are these moments throughout the day when she pulls on my legs, holds her brown little arms up (while stomping her little feet), and cries her little uh-uh-uh cry.

Sometimes I'm trying to make dinner. Sometimes I'm trying to help her brother and sister. And sometimes I would just like a minute or two to use both of my arms at the same time to do something other than holding her.

And then I remember.

It won't always be like this. 

She won't always be little. 

She won't always want me to hold her, to snuggle her, to kiss her fat little cheeks.

Someday those baby hand dimples will be gone. Someday she'll learn to use her words. Someday she won't need me like she needs me now. 

Someday she will grow up and leave the nest and create a life of her own.

And when that someday comes,

I know I will want nothing more than to hold her.