We have a new catchphrase around here, "that's new." It is getting a lot of play lately as Mia discovers a new way to suck on her bottom lip or blow a raspberry or decides to take her blocks out of their bucket one at a time rather than dumping them straight onto the floor. Every day now there is something that makes one of us point it out to the other and say "that's new." Last night, Mia pushed herself up onto her hands and knees for the first time and then made some (very slight) forward progress from that position and then slept in her crib from 9:00 to 6:30. Straight. That's new, that's new, and oh my sweet Jeebus thank you that's new.
I am thrilled by and for her, but sometimes it all seems a little too much, a little too fast, and three milestones in one day has me desperate to pause her for a little while, to cling to her babyness, to hold her on my lap just a little while longer when what she wants is to roll or crawl or run off my lap and out into the world. I still rock her to sleep every night (suck it, Ferber) and instead of trying to drop her into her crib the minute she falls asleep, I find myself holding her longer and longer just to smell her head and watch her fingers cling to my shirt or her blankie, because I know that soon she won't have time for it anymore and I want to burn it into my brain and onto my heart so that I will never, ever forget.