Cheese: Apple. Fritter.
Just one quick question: Does Aerosmith make you cry? Huh, maybe it’s just me.
So we’re sitting in the Walmart parking lot the other day and “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” comes on the radio. You know the one from Armageddon, with the tearful/cheesy scene with Liv Tyler and Bruce Willis on the tv screen? Anyway, I decide to sit in the car until the song is over because actually Aerosmith is my favorite band in the world (I know this makes you seriously question my taste) and I for some inexplicable reason have a crush on Steven Tyler (which should make you question my taste even more, really).
So Steven is scream-singing away, my kiddos are sitting like little car-seat prisoners in the back waiting for Mommy to release them, and the next thing I know, I’m cry-singing.
I don’t want to close my eyyyyeeeees, I don’t want to faaaaaaalllllll asleeeeep, cause I’d miss you, baby, and I don’t want to miss a thiiiiing.
I don’t know what happened, but every time the song came back to the chorus, I thought of my two sweet baby girls sitting back there and how they keep growing and changing and moving toward independence. And I love ‘em so much, I really, really don’t want to miss anything. Until they drive me bonkers, then I ship ‘em off to Grandma’s.
I’m sure all my doctor-friend readers out there are writing out prescriptions for Lexapro right about now, but I’m fine, I swear. It’s just that every once and a while I have these moments where I can see above all the daily details of mommyhood and into the people they are becoming, and it just kind of, well, makes me cry.
So you can imagine how well I’m doing today. The day my oldest baby girl turns four. Four years ago yesterday, I was in so much misery waiting for this gigantic (8 lbs. 11oz.) overdue baby to come out that I was seriously considering a do-it-yourself C-section. And four years ago today, I was the happiest woman in the world. I was so happy that I couldn’t even call my friends and family to tell them the news. I’d start to say it, then as soon as I had to say her name, I got all tangled up in my tearful happiness and had to pass the phone on to Mr. Dad.
Her name is Sophia Joy.
And she has been that from the very beginning. Joyful and bright. Enthusiastic and warm. And not only is she a picture of joy (most of the time) she has been a joy. And not just to her adoring and admittedly-biased parents. She has brought joy to so many others from the time she was just a little thing. Her kindness and generosity, her willingness to consider other people’s needs. Her contagious giggle. Even as a baby she seemed to know that sometimes people just needed to cuddle her and make silly faces at her; she never fussed at being passed from one person to the next (and I didn’t fuss a whole lot about getting a break.) To this day, she is uniquely considerate and gentle (unless Lil’ Sis is involved, of course) and loves to celebrate with anyone–planning parties, giving (and receiving) presents, singing the happy birthday song.
I told her today while we were out on a special birthday date that every day of her life she has been loved. Every day. She just kept licking her ice cream cone and started talking about bees or something, but I hope she does know that. And I’m not sure what Sophie will be when she grows up. I don’t care if she’s an event planner or a geographer or a refrigerator mechanic or a cheerleader. What I do hope for her is that she will always know how loved she is. But not just so that she can save it up inside of her heart for a rainy day (although I hope she does) but so that she can be someone who really loves other people. Not everyone gets to hear how loved they are all the time, so I’m hoping to give Sophie enough to share. And if the first four years are any indication, I think we’re on the right track.
(I’m very sorry about the formatting of this post. Apparently WordPress is feeling quite temperamental today, so you’ll have to excuse it, perhaps it’s been crying listening to Aerosmith, too. )