I want to remember that you're scared of almost all noises. I can't blow dry my hair. I can't use the mixer, juicer or food processor. You prefer no hammering, staple-gunning or drilling in your presence. You'd really rather we not grind coffee beans. It's frustrating and totally endearing. At some point I'll teach you that these tools are awesome, not scary, but in the mean time, we'll wait for Dad to get home and hang out in the other room.
I want to remember that despite the loud noise aversion, you do like to chase the robot vacuum around. Until he comes after you and then you get scared and leap into my arms. I think the robot vacuum is kind of like our family dog.
I want to remember your crazy long eye-lashes.
I want to remember your sweetness. You are so sweet. The other day you stopped drinking your milk to...waitforit...blow me a kiss. More than once you have walked right to me with your arms outstretched for a hug. When I tell you to give the random toy you're holding "a cuddle" you wrap your little arms around yourself. I was not a cuddly baby (ask Grandma) so it feels double lucky that I got one myself.
I want to remember you pointing at the sky every time we hear an airplane.
I want to remember your babbling voice. Sometimes we hear actual words (papa, mama, ball, uh-oh, bye-bye, more, baby, moo, baa) but other times it's just consistent babbling. Your voice goes up and down, up and down like you are really holding on a conversation.
I want to remember you peeking outside the curtains, playing hide-and-seek. You wait so long to pop out that sometimes I think you've forgotten we're playing. Turns out you're just patient.
I want to remember the tiny tuff of hair that sticks up like a little ducktail in the back of your head. I am surprised it's still there with how often I stroke it each day. At some point this fine, almost white blond hair of yours will grow into something I can braid. I cannot even imagine that.
I want to remember how high-up on your tip-toes you can get.
I want to remember how you hold your wrist out for me to put a bracelet on you. Sometimes it's the slap bracelet we picked up at Target. Sometimes it's one of my hair ties. You want it on and you keep your wrist still. And then for a minute or so, you hold out your whole arm as you wander around the house until you've forgotten it's there.
I want to remember the little slaps your feet make on the travertine as you walk through the house.
I want to remember your tiny voice saying "Papa!" when Dad gets home from work. Your grin and your wave are so sweet when we open the door and stand on the threshold. Suddenly the whole house breathes a collective sigh of relief.
I want to remember your rolling giggle when I say funny words or tickle your feet or throw things against the wall to see what will bounce.
I want to remember that you carry those white towels around everywhere. If there is four in the room you've got all four in your hand. If I'm folding laundry, you go through one clean one after another. You have a special hand position down and grip it just right while you suck your thumb.
It seems impossible that any if this will be forgotten. It seems silly that I would need to write it down to remember. But then I think back. I think back to my childhood summers. I think back to my grade school crushes. I think back to my high school classes. I think back to my long, hilarious college nights. I think back to my walks from the DuPont circle metro stop to work in Georgetown. I think back to wedding planning. I think back to our year in Little Italy. I think back to that first deployment. I think back to my walks on the beach in Oxnard. I think back to being pregnant. I think back to newborn you.
All of those seasons? They felt infinite. For better or worse, I was in them, forever. They stretched on and on and on. But now? In my memory those seasons are just moments. What felt like routine is now magic and special because it exists as only a blink.
I want to remember the moments, little love. I want to remember every single one.
the photos in this post were all taken over the past few weeks with my iPhone 5, edited with the VSCO app and shared on Instagram.
This week on ELISE GETS CRAFTY, I'm chatting with...myself! Just a short episode about staying focused and a tip for when you're suffering from "too many ideas." Subscribe on iTunes or stream the episode here.