I do. Because mine have become, well, barnacles. I went out of town a few weeks ago, and ever since I got back, Josie won't leave my side and Ian has quit threatening to move. Not run away, mind you. He's very methodical about it. He has packed several bags, and even gave me an actual move date, which, conveniently, kept getting pushed back (the thought of missing the Easter Bunny was horrible). Where was his dream world where nobody made him do homework and he could watch all the tv he wanted? (Seriously, those were his two demands.) West Virginia. I have NO idea how that became the Land of Wonder, but it was. Until we went to Pennsylvania for New Years Eve. We drove by Dutch Wonderland, and I was telling him how it was a shame that he was moving to W. VA, because he'd miss going to Dutch Wonderland with us in the summer. He thought about it very seriously, and then got this huge smile on his face. "I know!" he said. "I'll move to Pennsylvania instead!!" Well, so much for THAT brilliant idea. But still. I had hopes that he'd forget about it, even though every time he was angry, I'd hear a door slam and muffled mutterings of, "I'm going to move NOW! Come on, Flat Teddy, we're OUT OF HERE!" Fortunately, being my child, he was blessed with an occasionally short attention span, and could be easily distracted with a little Spongebob. Bad mommy, I know.
But as I was saying, ever since my trip, where I was gone for almost a week, well, a week-ish... I'm not sure, to be honest. It seemed like forever and it seemed like it lasted 5 minutes, depending on what I was doing at the time. But I was gone. And when I came home, both children rushed me at the door. It's wonderful to be welcomed home like that. Ian told me he decided he wasn't going to move. No preamble, no explanation, just. not. moving. Yay! Josie showed me how much she missed me in other ways. Refusing to go to school. Not wanting to play with Margot (my mother's helper, who is the only reason I get ANY work done mid-week). Not wanting to go to the sitters. Not wanting to do anything but sit on the couch and watch Dora with me. I'd like to point out that while I do enjoy sitting on the couch for various activities, watching Dora is sooooo far down that list that even cuddling with Josie loses its appeal after the first 15 minutes. Oh, and the biggest thing? She insists on being near me when she falls asleep. Which means either I go to bed with her (and I fall asleep, because she is quite warm and cuddly), or she sleeps in the living room. Which is where she is right now. In the playyard, snoring away, 10 feet from me. Scott has managed to get her to go to sleep with him a few times when she's really tired or I have to go out, but for the most part, this is it. She's a barnacle. My cute little Sweet Babboo is the barnaclebabe.
I'm not sure why I wanted to tell all of you that. But it's now 10:30, I'm listening to some cool tunes I found on itunes yesterday (Holly Conlan - very nice music to edit by!) and just enjoying the near quiet (the music is pretty low, so I don't wake my snoring barnaclebabe).
She's turning 3, you know. In about 2 weeks. And I don't know how that happened so quickly. I just photographed a baby for her 10 month pics, and it seems like it was just yesterday that we did her newborn session (here's a couple from the recent session, btw.)
It's going so fast. I know that, to her parents, the thought of her turning 3 is practically inconceivable. She's still learning how to stand. How to talk. How to find small choking-hazard objects and get them in her mouth before you notice. You have a long way to go before you're worrying about potty training. Crossing the street and holding hands. Preschool. Ponytail ribbon preferences. Princess dresses.
Princesses! How did we get to princesses so fast?! It was only a year ago I was mocking the princess thing. We're so NOT doing the princess thing, I declared. Uh huh. I should have just called Disney right there and set up an account with them. Sleeping Beauty, my least favorite princess, is of course, the Wee Beastie's favorite. I am fairly sure it's because the dress is pink. Oh, and that's another thing I was totally NOT going to do. Pink. I wanted her to wear orange, and green, and purple, and red, and yellow, and black. Lots of black. But no pink. And what is her favorite color now? Yeah. It happens. And now *I* love pink. And *I* am going gaga over the princess dolls with their pretty, delicate dresses and accessories. I want to buy her a castle tent for her bed and stencil dragons and musketeers on her walls. I love that she has worn a tiara every day this week (her "terrarra"). I can't help it. Apparently, there really was a girlygirl in me somewhere, just itching to get out.
And this baby girl that I just photographed. This 10 month old, who is going to be 3.... soon. What will she be like? Will we remember what she is like today? Or tomorrow? Will she be a princess? A tomboy? A daddy's girl? (mine SO is!) Will she love pink? Or will she want to play in the dirt and climb trees? Will my princess figure out soon that it's so much easier to climb trees if you're not worried about your skirt? I hope so. I want her to have scabs on her knees and pine sap on her hands. I love it when she comes in and her ponytails have shifted and are fuzzy, and she's got dirt on her cheeks, and is missing a shoe. Because you have to have some SERIOUS fun to end up that way. I want her to have fun. I want that to be what she remembers about being a kid. That she had a fun childhood. Even if, at some point, she threatens to move to Miami because I won't let her watch Dora all day long. I can live with that. I can live with the princess thing. I can live with her aging at a frighteningly disturbing pace. I can live with Dora on the couch. I can live with pink.
I love living with pink.
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