It’s true, of course. Her tiny fingers. Wispy eyelashes. Perfect heart shaped face, they will grow.
Part of me looks with hope to longer stretches of sleep, more smiles, interactive play, tea parties. Part of me just wants to hold her close and treasure her baby face.
There is a new balancing act I am learning. The balance between chores that must get done: bottles washed, clothes cleaned, food prepared. And observing her. Learning her. Pausing for an extra smile.
It’s easy to tell new moms to let housework go. But what does that really mean? Using only disposable dishes? Buying new clothes instead of washing them? Uber eats every night?
Perhaps sometimes. But I suspect it’s a learned balancing skill. When to be an adult. And when to pause and enjoy her cuddles and hold her for two hour naps. Because my dad is right. She will never be this little again.
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