It seems like my mind is always racing. Gotta do this, gotta do that, gotta do it all NOW. Some days I feel like Wonderwoman because I manage to to crawl into bed feeling successful and accomplished with my day. Being a Working Mom (and no - that probably shouldn't be capitalized, but I think it ought to be, so I will take the literary liberty and do so on behalf of all Working Mothers out there) is a challenge.
With all the things on my plate, this blog often suffers. Poor blog. I keep telling myself, "Don't be like some of those other bloggers out there in cyberland that create a blog, abandon it, and then write a lame apology post saying 'life is crazy' and that is why I didn't post anything for 9 months". Weak!
This brings me back to the fact that my mind is always racing. In my mind, I have about 20 blog posts swirling around just waiting for me to compose. I admitted this to Aunt Caitlin and said that one of the yet-to-be-written posts is about her. She reminded today that she is still waiting for her post. That was the gentle nudge that I needed to get my fingers typing. I hope this post lives up to the hype.
Dear Layla,
I love you. I love everything about you - from your microscopic pinky toenail to that one super long strand of hair that grows just above your right ear. You are perfect and you can't do anything wrong.
I am sure that Daddy feels the same way. And your grandparents. And the rest of the family. And your Aunt Caitlin.
In fact, if anything were to happen to Daddy or I, I'm sure Aunt Caitlin would swoop in and raise you like her own daughter without any hesitation whatsoever. I'm also sure that Aunt Caitlin would swoop in and raise you like her own daughter even if Daddy and I were perfectly capable of doing so. She wouldn't really need a reason to take you. She would just do it.
My relationship with Aunt Caitlin began at the gym. We were pretty good friends who hung out, ate Mexican food together, and talked about baby stuff a lot. She asked the best questions about being pregnant. Questions like, "Do you think she can hear me?" and "How does she poop?" and "Does she have prune fingers like we do when we sit in the bathtub for too long?" I thought she was hilarious. She told me that she wished she could talk to you the moment you were born so that she could ask you about your time in the womb. Oh my God - just thinking about potential conversation makes me giggle.
So when it came time for me to sit through an all day New Baby class and Daddy couldn't go, I asked the one person who was almost as obsessed with your development as I was: Aunt Caitlin. She agreed. That was when we took our relationship to the next level of "Spend the Whole Day Together".
She made that day of sitting around listening to the do's and don'ts of baby stuff a blast. We were both repulsed by the video of the OB/GYN yanking a baby out by it's head, in love with the super cute couple that sat near us (She was the classic blonde and he was the dark, Persian-type. I'm sure their son is a studmuffin!), and eye-rolled the hippee couple that swore they were only going to use cloth diapers for their son because they were so much cheaper. Pa-leeze! Cloth diapers?! What do you do with a dirty, cloth diaper when you are in the middle of running errands?! Anyway. . .
During one of the activities, we had to get a baby doll to practice diaper changing and bathing. Aunt Caitlin wanted the big Black baby who looked about 2, but I wanted the little, cute one that was smiling. She teased me that I wanted that one because it was White. With that, we took our relationship to another level of "Make Slightly Inappropriate Digs At One Another Without Anyone Getting Upset".
At the end of class, the instructor had all the pregnant ladies sit on the floor so that the partners could give massages and shoulder rubs. That is something we did not do. We did not go to the level of "Give Friendly Massages in Public". That would be going too far. LOL!
Aunt Caitlin was the Assistant Birthing Coach, ready to jump in the delivery room if Daddy failed and needed to be subbed out. She was the first person to give you a bottle. She was the first person to babysit you for the day while I went to work. She was one of the first, non-family person to hold you.
You love her. I can tell by the way you smile when you see her or hear her voice. When she sees you, she always calls you her best friend and says that she loves you. And I know that she means it too.
Your relationship is at a level that I can never mess with.
Love,
Mommy
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