tick tock tick tock

Where does the time go?


Cassidy still naps in the late morning, at which time I have about an hour and half and a choice to make:  laundry?  shower?  clean the kitchen?  clean the bathroom?  rest?  read a book?  write an e mail?  pay bills?  write a blog? waste it away playing words with friends?


She's napping now and there are remnants I need to attend to: books carried, dragged and scattered on the living room floor, a cookie sheet full of flour that overspilled on the kitchen floor rug (she loved smearing it around with her hands), the open dryer door full of laundry I haven't quite finished folding... and boy could I use a shower.  And the playroom floor needs to be mopped.  And don't even ask about the laundry piled on my grandmother's old cedar hope chest in our bedroom that hasn't been put away.


Cassidy requires much more maintenance these days.  Otherwise she's stuffing her mouth with dog food kibbles, or opening daddy's box of unused checkbooks on the bookshelf by his desk for me to find in a trail to the kitchen, or picking bits of folded laundry off the coffee table that I just spent 15 minutes folding.  Ah, what fun is life with a toddler!


I don't sweat it for the most part.  I'm getting used to living in trails of chaos, constantly picking things up off the floor.  But when she goes down for a nap, I want to rest too.  I don't want to vacuum the pile of flour up left in the kitchen, even though I knew it would be a messy activity.  I don't feel like moving everything around in the playroom and mopping the floor, even though under the rocking chair among the collected dog hair is beginning to look like a good place for mice to live.  I don't feel like sweeping the stairs or cleaning the bathroom.  I don't want to re-fold all that laundry.


Long gone are the blissful days of the tiny infant, sleeping, eating, laying on the floor on a blanket, immobile and perfectly happy.  I am wistful for those days.

Cassidy shares her breakfast

These days are full of wonder and discovery, uttering new words for the first time, testing limits and screaming tears when yes, I am serious that you may not stand up in your high chair and now you may not sit there at all anymore.  And no, you may not have a sip of my coffee, or eat that dog food, or climb the outside of the stairway.   And, oh, that laugh that makes my heart bubble up and spill over!  And yes, that IS the dog, a ball, a boat, a bee!  


I was at work the other day when Cassidy was stung by a bee.  We still re-animate the story in baby language:  bee, zzzzzzz, ow!  Waaah!!!  She cracks up laughing every time she tells the story and pretends to cry, or when I tell the story and pretend to cry.


Even though I am often exhausted, I know that I will look back and be wistful for these days, too.