The tide is turning...

It seems like just last week I was bringing my little Allison home from the hospital. She is eight months old now, and the sweetest baby a mom could ever want.

Well, this morning she woke up rather early and I nursed her, but she wasn't interested in going back to sleep; so I brought her into the bedroom where Scotty was getting ready for work. When Allison saw her dad, she smiled and reached for him. He took her and smiled and talked to her for a bit before giving her back to me. But then she tried to climb out of my arms to get back to him. This is a first. She has been known to reach for others before: her dad, her brother, Grandma, etc.; but as soon as that person has her-- she will turn back to me almost immediately. Of course Scotty could not resist taking her back to laugh and play with her for a little longer. While watching this sweet picture of daddy and daughter, I said to Scotty, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm about to start crying." (I've learned it's best to warn him of this, hiding it usually doesn't work.)

I guess I could try to pass them off as tears of joy, I could have been very touched by the tender scene before me-- but they were not. You see, I only ever have about a year to be the most important person in the world to my little ones before they discover that Dad is much more fun, he's more likely to give them ice cream, and he's "never" home. Does that sound a little petty? I don't mean it to. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful man as my husband and the father of my children. And I am thrilled that the kids all love to play with, climb on, dance with, talk to, and even work with their dad. But still-- I am a mom.

I love to be needed. I love it when the kids come to me when they get hurt, and I get to give them a "magic kiss." I love it when they're tired and just need to be held by their mama. I love it when I have to read the story beacuse I'm the only one that does it right. And I love it when I have a new baby that needs lots of love and cuddles.

But the tide is turning. My baby is getting older, and needing me less. Other people can feed her now. She's able to recognize and remember more faces than just mine. She can get just about anywhere she wants on her own two legs (and arms). Pretty soon she'll be walking, talking, getting dressed, reading her own books, wanting to play with people that don't live with her, making her own breakfast, going to school, and then-- let's face it, once they start school they're pretty much lost to us forever.

Too dramatic for you? Sorry. Well, I could try to make it sound like I'm less crazy than I really am, but I need to watch a "really long ballet," performed by a three-year-old. And then I need to make lunch. And then I need to...