Pajama Party @ the Park

You are growing up so fast, it's fun and amazing and scary and sad all at the same time. Every single day, you are more of a kid and less of a baby. You do things that I had no idea that you knew how to do practically on an hourly basis. I watch you crawl to the edge of the bed and I gasp and start running toward you to catch you and break your fall but you just look at me like "what?" and swing your legs over the edge, gently lowering yourself to the floor. I have to admit that sometimes when things like this happen, I start to feel sad and I force you to nurse, even if you just ate or aren't hungry at all. I just need to prove to myself that you are still a baby, that you still need me. And then you will lay in my arms, at my breast, staring up at me and if I just look at your face and ignore your long, chubby body that doesn't even fit in my lap anymore, you are my tiny little newborn again. All is right with the world for a few minutes, I feel strong and maternal, I reassure myself that even if you aren't hungry, my breastmilk is important- that you need the antibodies, it's flu season, you haven't been vaccinated- whatever I need to tell myself to almost start to believe that this is for you, not me. But, inevitably, you will start to pull at my necklace and put your fingers in my nose and mouth, losing interest in the task at hand. You will unlatch and roll off of my lap, "byebye mama" you say, crawling away. I try not to cry. My baby. What happened to my tiny little baby? I love you little girl. Today and every day, even when you're old and gray.