Dear Rhiannon,
You're already over a year old. It is hard to imagine, how fast you grow and change. I look back at your newborn photos and I barely recognize that tiny person. I see your soul in your eyes, your eyes have stayed the same, but they have gotten more blue. Blue like your Daddy's, with lovely long lashes. Sometimes my heart forgets to beat when I look into those eyes. You can look right through me, since the day you were born. I remember holding you, gazing into those gorgeous eyes, and felt like you knew me. Not just that you knew I was your mother, which you obviously did, but knew me, knew me as a person. Knew my hopes and dreams and failures, and loved me because and in spite of them.

I don't think I knew how to love someone else completely before you came along. I have loved you from the moment I knew you were growing inside me, and I loved the idea of you before that. Being a mother has made me whole and complete in ways unimaginable before you were conceived. For the first time, I was forced to put aside thoughts of myself and think of someone else's needs, feelings and well-being. I did this willingly, for the most part. :)

Your Daddy just made me check on you because you were taking a longer-than-usual nap. He's like that, very protective of you. He has been in fear of you choking since you were ever able to put anything into your mouth. Then you actually had to start on solids, meaning you had to put things in your mouth and swallow them! *gasp* I tease him about it, but it's just his way of loving you.

You are such a joy. Everyone that meets you is completely enchanted by you. I don't think I'm biased when I say that. You do seem to garner more than your fair share of attention. When we're out shopping, complete strangers will smile and talk to you, doing all sorts of things to get you to smile at them. Then I feel like they tear themselves away from you, and their eyes travel up and take me in - black Dr. Marten boots, old blue jeans, plain t-shirt, hair braided hurriedly, no makeup, glasses, small smile - and I don't seem to quite measure up. LOL They'll give me a quick smile, and a nice comment about my "beautiful baby", then take one last look at you (perhaps you'll smile again), and move along. It's really a trip, considering I was used to my comfortable, cozy, anonymity in a store. * Don't make eye contact, be polite, don't talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary * It's kind of nice to watch you break people out of that mode, and a bit of their true selves shines through for an instant. It's as if we're all old friends for a moment. Those moments are magic, Bean, and it's all because of you.

love and blessings,
your mama

Well, this is the first entry in my brand spankin' new Weblog. I wax philosophical and impressively poetic at various points throughout the day, but am pulling a huge blank when faced with the actual task of writing anything down.

Actually, the poetic part is true. Since having Rhiannon (my daughter, 14 months old) I have begun to speak and think in little rhymes. It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that I read to her on a daily basis, and nearly every single book has rhymes. Some is actually quite good, very catchy. So catchy, in fact, that the damn rhyme will stick in my head for hours, sometimes days. Then I start to make up my own words to the rhyme, keeping the same rhythm of the original. I try these out on my hapless daughter, who just grins at me like I'm the world's greatest poet. Sometimes I even get a giggle. The benefits of slowly being driven out of your mind. LOL

Parenting is great for being driven out of your mind. This is not necessarily negative, mind you. It feels good to get out of my mind a bit, stretch tired muscles, see things in a new light. I enjoy life, just being, much more than I used to in my pre-parenting days. I was very caught up with being perfect. And being perfect takes an awful lot of work, and since it is usually an exercise in futility, it can be depressing as well. I've come to realize that I have no hope of becoming a perfect parent. I only strive not to damage my precious girl too much, and hope that she grows up happy, well-adjusted, and thinking her parents are basically OK. Good to have dreams! :)