January 29, 2011


I have certain rules.

For instance-

if Amelia is in my Facebook profile picture, I still have to be in it somewhere. She's definitely better looking than I am, but it's not Amelia's Facebook page. It's mine.

Also, although she is a constant theme running through this blog, I try to keep it here for the most past. I refuse to have an hour discussion on which diaper is best. Even as a mom, I find it ridiculously boring.

Other than that, I'm as guilty as the rest.

I could never understand why people got so involved with their kids-maybe it's just because I have never been much of a "kid person". Where does that need come from to document every little second of a baby's life with photographs? What makes them think their kid is particularly special? Why spend so much time gushing about a roly-poly blob who can't even form a single word yet?

Why would I obsess over Amelia as if she were the only baby in the world?

And finally, I've found the answer; because she is good.

Not good in the sense of well-behaved- that's not what I mean. (She's already practicing throwing fits.) I mean, she's good in the sense that my day can be horrible, and she can even be part of the rough day by crying non-stop or exploding diapers. Sometimes, I feel like my arm will fall off when I lug her around a store. She often gets fussy right as I'm sitting down to eat, like she has some sort of internal alarm that goes off.

And then, I can look at her face, and know that I will always love her, and know that she, at least now, loves me without question. She came from me, yet she is perfect (again, not perfect perfect, but my perfect). She is the bright spot in life. She soothes my heart in a way that no one else can. She is my hope and my joy, wrapped up in chubby cheeks, slate blue eyes, and a tiny pink mouth.

That is goodness.

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