On the eve of my daughters 2nd birthday I am taken back to the eve of her birth. I guess that's natural, it's heavy tonight though.
That night as I tucked my then 3rd grader in for bed on the night before school and the birth of his little sister, I remember thinking how much I loved being a parent.
I have never really loved doing anything too much to do it too long.
That makes me sound... odd I guess, but that is just the facts.
I liked doing everything once or twice, then I was over it.
As Eddie and I put the finishing touches on our house that we would leave in hands of my Mother, I remember looking at the bathtub (that I could no longer get into) and thinking about the little girl I would bathe, the new bath toys that would no doubt line the bottom.
I walked up the stairs and thought "how in the hell am I going to go up and down those stairs with a baby, a toddler?". But I do. Everyday.
I thought about the living room and how we would have to make room for dolls and tea sets, something our living room had lived without.
Seeing Quattro's face as an only child, that last time, I had a moment of sadness.
He would no longer be everything to me, he would be one of my children, not my only child.
My life has never been the same since 9.9.09 at 8:16 a.m. Neither has my house.
I walk around and see all the dolls, the tub is full of classic rubber duckies and tomorrow a doll that not only goes into the bath- but she pees.