Chase

Sometimes there's not much else I want to do but to sit and marvel at my darling girl. This year has transformed her from a baby into such a little girl, and there's no amount of "don't blink" warning to prepare me for any of it. She's grown into a funny, sweet, considerate little lady, who's testing out her boundaries and independence every single day. It both breaks my heart and makes my chest puff up a little to hear her say "no, Momma, I can do it all by myself!" Lately the weather has been so wet and dreary, and to couple that with her father being gone on yet another work trip and her BFF's PCSing, it's just been a lot of us hanging around the house together. I used to dread days like these when Chase was a tiny baby, because it felt like the days would never end. Now it feels a lot like I'm hanging out with a really cool friend, who can make me laugh all day--just like her father does. It's also a big plus that she gives spontaneous hugs, kisses, "I yove you, Momma," and still lets me cuddle with her whenever I want.

Yesterday she woke up and asked for her father. I choked up a little before reminding her that he was away again. Her eyes said she remembered, although she kept asking and answering her own questions about him all day. I'm sure he's missing her just as terribly, since the only reason he signed up for a Facebook account after barely 8 hours away from home was to have constant access to new pictures of her I might put up. He was born to father our girls.

Later in the day when Chase was serving me food from her kitchen, she also made a plate for Nadia, her best buddy whom just moved away. I really teared up that time because I knew it was the first, and perhaps the easiest, of many goodbyes coming her way as a military brat. I'm pretty sure she thinks that all of her friends are just moving to the same place we are, and we'll soon have daily playdate just like this past summer.

She seems to know when I'm a little down and need some cheering up. After she woke up from her nap and had her snack on the couch with me, she grabbed my hand, dragged me off the couch, and said "come yook at the tree Momma." She took my hand and led me to my bedroom. From the window there, she stood pointing at a maple tree that was turning beautiful golden color. "The yeaves are falling--they are SO beautiful!" I could never hug her tightly enough.

This evening, perhaps sensing that her mother might never ever let her out of her grip unless she fought for it, she uncharacteristically ventured out to a group of older boys that had been playing around our house all day. "Heyo, I'm Chasey--Dr. Steinhauer. Yook at my pretty birdie necklace and dandelion!" Those 4 boys, who alternated between riding their loud bikes up and down the street and a pick-up game of soccer clearly couldn't care less about a little 2-year-old, who was wearing Hello Kitty rainboots with her pink outfit and trying to get their attention from the sidewalk. Again with the heart break/motherly pride combo. She did everything she knew to do to show them that she was cool, too. Her red little balance bike got one of the boys' attention (or perhaps it was pity?), but she quickly grew tired and settled to sit and cuddle with me while watching them make more noise with bikes and soccer ball. If those kids were girls, she would have been the bell of the ball, but neither one of us meant much to a gang of 7-year-old boys. So I sat next to her and swallowed 20 more hard lumps in my throat. My whole traumatic middle school years flashed before my eye and I was almost mad at those poor boys for not lavishing my baby with all of their attention. Then she happily said "cuddle with me, Momma," and all was right with the world again. I couldn't have birthed a more perfect creature.