Two

We hardly call her baby anymore.  Her mark on the wall is two and a half inches higher than it was six months ago.  Today I allowed her out of the safety of the shopping cart at Wal-Mart and let her walk with big sister.  Everyday she has a new word, her communication is improving, and there is less frustration.  She is crafting and taking turns and riding bikes and going down waterslides and putting on her own shoes...

She is two.

On the occasion that I say, "where's our baby?"  Callie is quick to remind me, "mom, she's a toddler, not a baby." 

Oh ya, I forgot. 

But she is still my baby.

The other night we started out with our regular bedtime routine... a snuggle in the rocking chair, a cup of milky, her blankie, me running my fingers through her fine, sun-bleached hair... when I got up to put her in her crib she complained, she wanted more. 

I held her in my arms and I began doing deep knee bends, the bounce and hop step that I had perfected during the entire first year of her life as it was the only way that seemed to soothe those mysterious things called colic and reflux...and she still loved it.

As I was bouncing and swaying and soaking up the love from my baby I recalled something I had read in one of those new mom books, back before Callie was born, back when I had more time on my hands.  The passage was about "starting as you mean to go on" and the gist of it was a warning for parents who carry their infants around in order to get them to sleep.  It challenged them to try doing that for half an hour with a twenty-pound sack of potatoes.  "Is that what you want to be doing a few months from now?"

Well, sister is over thirty pounds. 

And ya, I still want to be doing it a few months from now. 

And I used to do it because she needed it. 

And now I do it because I need it. 


****

Whenever we put a bathing suit on Lexi she pats her toddler tummy with both hands and says, "beach, beach?" 

So sister had a backyard beach party to celebrate number two. 

 And it was awesome. 

And worth the time and effort.

It's ALWAYS worth it. 

My baby is two.  I don't know if one ever stops calling their baby, "Baby".  But I do know that I will likely continue to rock her to sleep and our morning rendez-vous will persevere...at least until one of us lets go.

Happy Birthday Baby.