Much of the past month or two seems to have rushed by in a blur. Travel. Car. Sit. Parent. Travel. Car. Sit. Parent. Lion King. Car. Clean. Cook dinner. Playtime. Story time. Travel. Doctor visits. Car. Sit. Clean. Temper tantrum. TIME OUT.
Most of the moments that I have strung together have been punctuated with what the world calls The Terrible Twos.
There has been spitting and kicking. There has been hitting and shrieking. There have been endless, unnecessary tears. There has been a non-stop chorus of No and More and Mine, all mushed together in a cacophony of whines.
There have been many moments where I have looked at my gray-eyed, sweet-faced little girl and wondered Will I ever survive this??
That has been the past month or so. And then there have the past few days.
In the past few days I have gazed at my gray-eyed, sweet-faced little girl and thought How lucky am I? How sweet and marvelous is she?
She has been doling out hugs and kisses. She has been flinging her arms around my neck and nuzzling me and whispering Mama, pretty.
She has gone running to her grandmothers, to her aunts, to me arms outstretched, begging for hugs. She has eaten her meals with minimal coaxing and hardly a complaint. She has woken up with smiles and laughter. She is chitchattering all day ~ naming colors, animals, places, people. She is asking questions and sharing and taking turns. She is a freaking rainbow.
And I know that it isn't going to last. I know that the chaos is just being hidden behind the cuteness. And I. DON'T. CARE. These past few days have made me think:
Maybe, just maybe, I will survive this.
Maybe, just maybe, I am a little good at this.
Maybe, just maybe, my gray-eyed, sweet-faced little girl is here to stay.
I just jinxed it, didn't I?