Dear Zianne,
I want you to know that, right now, I am young. I always equated becoming a mom with being old… graying hairs, sitting around with other old friends and talking about politics, having to get the obligatory mom bob short haircut. I don’t know why I always thought this. Probably because my clearest memories of my own mom are when she was in her 40s and 50s. Honestly, I hardly remember my mom in her 30s. And I was much too young to remember my mom in her 20s. But if I flip back through photo albums, the pages now yellow with age, I see pictures of my parents with their cutoff shorts, 80s flip flops, and wide smiles hinting at their youth. I see them laughing with friends, escaping on vacation, and rolling out sod as happy first time home owners. There they are… my mom and dad… as young as can be.
And right now I feel young too. I am still me – running at the gym, neurotically organizing the pantry, meeting friends for coffee, hunting the clearance racks at my favorite stores – but now I take you into account as I plan out each day. I make dinner with you strapped to me in the Ergo, and I sneak in phone calls to my friends while you sleep in the backseat of the car. I’m young and full of energy and oh-so-happy to be your mother. You won’t remember these days, but I promise you that I dance in the kitchen like a maniac to entertain you while I cook, and I belt Top 40 hits to cheer you up when you are upset.
And you are young too. Every day, three times a day, you get fussy and I read to you from your Jesus Storybook Bible and put you down for a nap. You’ve taken to sucking your thumb, and I try to dwell on how cute it is, instead of worrying about how I’ll break such a bad habit later on. And every night I nurse you to sleep, and I always rock you for a few minutes before I lay you in your crib. I savor the moments with you in my arms and try to memorize the image of your long baby eyelashes as they rest on your chubby baby cheeks. I know I won’t get to rock you forever.
Because someday you’ll be old. In fact, you’re getting older everyday and I can only faintly remember the eight and a half pounds we brought home from the hospital just a few months ago. And when you’re two, I’ll hardly recall the days you couldn’t walk. And when you’re five I’ll hazily think of the days you couldn’t talk. And when you’re ten and I drop you off at school, I’ll get nostalgic for the season when we stayed at home all day together. And when you’re sixteen and I nervously watch you drive off for the first time, I’ll miss hauling your heavy infant carrier in and out of the car. And don’t get me started on when you go to college, because I don’t even want to imagine you being that old.
Because right now you are young, and I’m young too. I know you won’t remember young me, but I will always remember young, tiny you and the days we spent being young together.
Love,
Your Young Mama
Jen, you write such beautiful words to sweet Miss Z and I'm privileged to be able to read them. Oh, and thank you for sharing the link of your Bible story book. I've been looking to buy one, not sure exactly what to buy, but I trust your choice implicitly and look forward to sharing it with my chubby man, Kamden. Our babies are growing old WAY TOO FAST for my liking!!!!
Awww, that is so sweet! I wish I had written some of these things down when my kids were babies! You're right…it *does* zoom by way too fast!
This is so beautiful! Thank you for sharing these personal notes to your daughter… they are so touching!
Love this one. A new AZ Russums fave 🙂 I was feeling this same way last night as Brecken and I were cuddled together watching Toy Story 3 where Andy goes off to college. And I was sobbing like a baby. 🙂