When my daughter was very small--you know, fits in a bucket, doesn't do much but eat, sleep, cry & poop--I couldn't believe how much work one little person was. The sleep deprivation, the constant concern, the paranoia, the guilt, etc. The bathing, the constant feeding, the changing of the diapers--on and on.
Well, I miss those days. I miss the baby. I miss dressing her in whatever was clean. Breastfeeding meant no choices in food, but that was okay because it was good. I could spend the evening just watching her sleep because she was so amazing.
Now I have a five-year-old who sasses, who refuses to eat, who is particular about her clothing and hates to take baths. She just wants to be with me when I want to be alone and she constantly wants to play with the neighbor when I want to spend some quality time with her.
I miss the baby.
But the baby never told me she loved me. The baby never had an opinion. The baby couldn't tell me about her day at school.
I miss the baby, but I love my child: I love watching her learn. I love her intelligent questions out of nowhere. I just love her and I know that she will do the same stupid things that all kids do and there's nothing I can do to stop it, even though I know what will happen.
Why can't they learn from our mistakes?
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