This just kills me.

This is a poem called "The Last Time," author unknown.

From the moment you hold your baby in your arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you had freedom and time,
And nothing in particular to worry about.
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same,
Full of feeding and burping,
Whining and fighting,
Naps, or lack of naps. It might seem like a never-ending cycle.

But don't forget...

There is a last time for everything.
There will come a time when you will feed your baby
for the very last time.
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child.
One day you will carry them on your hip,
then set them down,
And never pick them up that way again.
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone.
They will hold your hand to cross the road,
Then never reach for it again.
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles,
And it will be the last night you ever wake for this.
One afternoon you will sing 'the wheels on the bus'
and do all the actions,
Then you'll never sing that song again.
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate,
the next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone.
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your
last dirty face.
They will one day run to you with arms raised,
for the very last time.

The thing is, you won't even know it's the last time
until there are no more times, and even then,
it will take you a while to realize.

So while you are living in these times,
remember there are only so many of them and
when they are gone,
you will yearn for just one more day of them.

For one last time.

I first read the poem HERE.


boogers, boogers everywhere...

Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. There aren't boogers everywhere. But our sweet little girl sure has been coughing and having her nose sucked out a lot. Thank you, Nose Frida. 

It's the first time Sophia has had the flu, and I think it's made this mommy more sad than it has the little one. She's on medicine to help relieve symptoms, which is a blessing. Today she spent a good deal of time crawling and cruising, dumping toys all over the living room, and trying to climb things she knows she's supposed to stay away from. I had a hard time keeping up! I haven't slept all week since I've been staying awake to listen to her breathe. I've drifted off only to wake up to an imaginary cry from her room, stumbling through the hallway before realizing I must have been dreaming.

On one hand, it breaks my heart to know she feels achy and tired and drained. On the other hand, it's made for the warmest daytime snuggles and loves. It's not out of the ordinary for Sophia to want to be held--but usually for entertainment purposes, to be played with or to get a good view on the room around her. But this week she's been offering genuine cuddle time. It's been wonderful.

Today I started thinking about how my mom took care of me during sick days growing up. I remember being told I had to stay in bed, and I would--for a while. Inevitably over the course of the morning I'd make my way out to the living room to spread out on the couch. I don't remember exactly what I did those days, but I remember that my mom would rub my head, combing through my hair with her fingers, and talk to me about whatever we talked about. Sometimes Nana would come over. Sometimes I had to go see the pediatrician, which almost always resulted in a trip to McDonald's. Dr. Pardo's office gave out little cards for a free cheeseburger at the end of each appointment. It was a reward of sorts. McDonald's may not be the best food choice for a kid with the flu, but of course I wanted it anyway. I think my mom usually obliged. We'd go through the drive-thru and then home where I'd finish out the afternoon parked on the couch binge-watching VHS tapes. Good times. I guess being sick isn't always the worst.

I know this won't be the last time Sophia is sick. I hope the days she will spend feeling ill are minimal and that she grows up healthy and strong as any human can be. But also I will treasure the days ahead when she stays still and allows me to rub her head, comb through her hair with my fingers, and talk to her about whatever we talk about. Maybe my mom will come over. Maybe after seeing the pediatrician we'll grab a treat on the way home.