This last week has been devoured in a whirlwind of family and one particular almost-two year old (who also happens to be cutting four teeth at once, which is just never any fun, but this time around she's like a hormonal adolescent that is in pain but doesn't want to talk about it. Read that hurting, and bitchy). Due to the aforementioned teeth, I've spent my nights staring at two bright little eyes in the dark (because Jane has this gift of not sleeping when she's teething), and my days surrounded by my beautiful family, glitter, and lots of lights in the most festive situations. It really is beautiful, in spite of the mess that comes with life. I suppose that really makes it better. I find myself noticing the sweet times more, when a moment of life's ache is still fresh and burning in my memory. Motherhood has made me feel this keenly...I have never before experienced such stark emotion, so closely together. That tiny person can push me to the end of myself, and within 5 minutes warm my heart to bursting. I think I'm beginning to enjoy the intensity of the moments.
TMI example: tonight Jane looked at my, uh breasts (ok, can we just establish that there is NO good name for boobs, ta tas, whatever-you-want-to-call them?!) and said "mama, if you blow, do it POP?" Because I wasn't sure I heard her right, I asked her to say it again. And she responded with an emphatic "DO IT POP?" Oh right, like a balloon (I almost went off on a tangent about how very flat these balloons are, but you know, we can save it). I just, about, DIED. I love this girl to death.