You would think that since I spend all waking hours and select minutes of half-awakedness with Baby Girl, I would generally be aware that my life is different now. But occasionally I will be having dinner at the kitchen table with Lovey Loverpants, sometimes an hour after she has gone to sleep and I look over at the living room floor and see it littered with the traces of an infant and I am reminded...Oh, a baby lives with us.
And sometimes I will be on the phone with a friend who has a hot jetsetting life and just as my envy starts to ebb over his frequent flier miles, he will ask me how that little girl is doing and suddenly the synapse fires and I am reminded...Oh, I have a daughter.
Then there are times when I am walking at twilight, past the playground where the potsmoking teens loiter and a little round head leans against my chest and fits perfectly under my chin and I am reminded...Oh, I am a mother.
But my favorite moment every day comes just as I am crawling into bed and I hear the stirring and a small whimper causes me to tip-toe to that crib where I peer over and am reminded once, again, Oh, I am so incredibly grateful to be alive for this.