Reality

This morning I was going to write this post about how having a one year old at our advanced ages is not so easy. I was going to write about how, literally, every muscle in my body aches--muscles I didn't know I had. I was going to write about what a shock to the system it is to not have a minute to yourself when you have had almost five decades of luxurious independence (totally taken for granted).

And you know what-- every bit of that is true--and more. But I have a feeling Elizabeth knew that I was going to write about the reality of the time, energy and psychic demands a child places upon you. She knew that because today she woke up looking cuter than I have ever seen her with her cherub face and rosy cheeks. She has been smiling since she woke up and generally she has been the most lovable baby in the world. Even on our shopping trip to Target where she hurled a supposedly plastic baby tray across the aisle and where it shattered in a million pieces--she managed to look like the cutest thing in the world.

And, she has a way of captivating you with her seemingly knowing smiles. What can I say--she is everything we could have hoped for in a baby.

I am sure that later tonight when I am once again sore from carrying her 25 pounds up and down the stairs, and from hoisting her in and out of the car seat and lifting the stroller into the trunk of the car,--I will think "I am way too old for this." And when I look at our once well decorated house that now looks like a pack of wild animals has run through it, I will think "I really really miss my neat house." And then she will wake up with that smile, and what can I say other than, "she is a million tiny miracles rolled into one little girl."