Last week I had a really sweet 2 year old patient whose parents couldn't be there with him on my shift. So that meant I was nurse/babysitter. We read stories, walked laps pulling the wagon (and IV pole), had a playdate with the girl next door and fought over playdough, and stacked blocks. Between that and studying pediatric development the last couple of weeks, I've been really missing my tiny kiddos! That stage was so much fun--the tea parties, the playparks, children's museum, the zoo, the chubby little thighs, thumbsucking, messy faces, puppy dresses, runs with the jogging stroller. Oh my gosh. I need to stop doing this to myself.
The thing is, I don't think I fully appreciated it at the time. I didn't savor it like I would have if I knew then what I know now--that everyone was right: it really does go by way too fast. I don't think the post-partum blahs really lifted until Amelia was a year old, and when I see a lot of these photos they make me sad because I was a bit of a mess still and I think I missed out on some of the joy. That's not to say I didn't enjoy that time. I did! I loved being a stay-at-home mom to those little girls, and we had so much fun. But I also think that first year of being a mom of two was pretty rough for me, and I wish I could do it over again so I could kiss those chubby thighs and snuggle with sticky girls under a fort in the living room again, fully absorbing all the love and wonder of that time.










