i’m busy watching violet move. i’m busy in disbelief as she discovers her body. her elbows. her knees. the way things fold and bend. the way she can spin on her stomach. the way it feels to spit her applesauce and sweet potatoes. she laughs. she smiles bigger than i have in months. she’s delighted. she’s eating junk mail and dust bunnies. she’s a big girl.

i spent so long waiting for her to just. get. bigger. i spent those aching terrible first few months in a fever of anxiety and stress just wanting her baby-ness to end. just wanting to be done with sleepless nights and aching boobs. and now she is bigger. she is bigger. and i’m already confused, wishing her a little, tiny, so little baby again with that raven fluff of hair on her head and her tendency to fall asleep during diaper changes. i wish that i had taken more pictures. more videos. taken more moments to just watch her little hands. (now she’s eating the afghan.)

i guess i’m back here again. only i feel older too. and more afraid of this growing up stuff. more afraid to push these precious little babies into a world full of swine flu and school shootings and health care reform. but, i know too, somewhere inside of me, that it will be worth it to watch them become the heroes of their own story. to watch these two little babies of mine walk into their own storm, whether they battle with a pen or a tuba, and keep walking. keep finding and building themselves. keep uncovering their own greatness and generosity. even in bad weather.