Knights Becoming and a Lady in Waiting

Time Travels Faster Than Light

I'm not sure how it happened, but the Princess turns six months tomorrow.  Six months!  Half a year this precious little girl has been enriching my life with smiles, hair-grabs, cuddles, explosive diapers, and nursing. 

What was my life like before I had the color pink overflowing my home?  Have I revelled enough in the joy of this last baby, this only daughter, to last me for the next 60 or so years?  Am I entering a stage where there will no longer be nighttime nursing, carrying a baby carrier (or wearing a sling), and carrying the world's largest diaper bag?  No more double-stroller?

Ack.  Before I muse my way right into melancholy, I'd better backtrack.  Yes, I am leaving all that, but I'm approaching introducing cereal (and maybe sleeping six hours straight, just once?).  I'm going into the new world of "dada, mama" and finding grass impossibly riveting.  There'll be skinned knees, tickle-fests, and singing "The A B C Song" over and over (and over and over).  I'll get to reintroduce the fun of Sandra Boyton books and the beauty of Margaret Wise Brown poetry.

Six months.  Have I made every minute count?  Have I made any of them count?  We got Slow and Steady, Get Me Ready, but I haven't done very many of the activities.  The kids have plenty of toys, but how many times have I been down on the floor playing with them?  Was it really necessary to always be doing something else at the same time as I nursed?

Six months.  How amazingly awesome that six months could work such a change in the structure of my family, my life, and my heart.

Six months.  Happy half-birthday, sweet Princess.