Her own person

The other morning I was trying to dress my 19-month daughter, which is always a hoot because she's typically asleep during the process.

So she rolls over and toots. I laugh (cause it's funny...duh!)

Her response is, "Not funny!" and she pulls the blanket over her head.

She's 19 months, not 19 years old. My goodness. I seriously woke up one day to find a person, albeit a small one, in my life. She's not a baby; she's not distracted by shiny things anymore. She has her own thoughts and feelings and agendas.

I really don't miss having a newborn: it was so much work and I felt so out of it the whole time. Also, middle of the night is NOT a good time for me. Just ask my husband--I was a beast between 12 and 4 am.

What makes me slightly sad and anxious about my little girl growing up is the sense that things are slipping away from me. I drop her off at day care at 7 and pick her up at 5:30. When she was smaller, it wasn't such a big deal. She didn't do too much during the day that she wouldn't repeat at home.

Now at daycare, she has a whole world separate of me. She has friends and favorite toys. Don't get me wrong; I think it's fantastic that she is such an independent kid and is so happy anywhere.

There's just a tinge of sadness when she races through the front door at daycare. I remember my mom saying the same thing about me when I was little. And know that my mom loomed large in my life when I was small; she was my world.

My little girl may run off to do her thing, but I will be there waiting to hear her stories and laugh at her jokes. She really is so funny.