Yesterday I packed up all the clothes Pepper no longer fits into. The tiny onesies, the 0000 suits, the little socks.
It will be the last time I do, as we aren’t having any more babies so there is nobody to save them for.
And while in my more tired moments I couldn’t wait for Pepper to be through the relentless newborn phase so we could all feel a little bit more normal, now that she’s there I can’t believe it’s all gone.
She is a bona-fide wriggling, giggling, finger-sucking, alert baby, and no longer a sleepy newborn.
As is always the case, it happens overnight and you wonder where did my baby go?*
Time moves so fast in these early years and having them so close together means everything happens at double speed. I have to consciously remind myself to slow down and take it all in, because this is all I get. No do-overs. Once these babies are grown and I’m back at work, they’re grown and I’m back at work. No second chances.
She talks my ear off and loves to sing and can count to 10 already. She can go down the slide by herself and has teeth I didn’t even notice she was getting, and has no fear of the ocean.
She is learning 57 new things a day and I want to remember them all.
She likes sleeping and boobs. And my big dumb head.
She likes bananas and Peppa Pig and playdough and her cat and my lap.
And I want to stop and catch my breath just so I can breathe them in.
*I fully expect to still be doing that at their 60th birthday parties.