I can't believe I'm one of those moms.

Right now your room looks like more of a mess than anything really- but let's ignore that fact for a moment.

It's not really a room for a baby anymore. I won't say it makes me sad, because I'm not actually sad, it's a bittersweet feeling. While I miss the littlest you, I love the silly dizzy you I have today. I already love the cranky sad pants you'll be tomorrow. I didn't get sad when I'd have to box up your clothes because you'd outgrown them. But looking at some of the clothes makes me melancholy. I stare at them and I want the little you back. I didn't get sad when we had to pack up the jumperoo or swing either and when I see those disassembled in the basement I don't even feel a twinge. I smile and think about how furiously you jumped the day you learned how to. I think about you s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g as far as you could to touch the fish. I remember you holding on to those same fish for dear life- I thought you were going to break them off!

Out of all the things of yours I've had to put in your closet or in to a box or bin in the basement- the changing pad gets me. Without it, you're not a baby. You're well over 30lbs and I haven't been using it other than first thing in the morning for over a month; packing it away is long over due.
There are moments that I wish I could hold on to forever- and to a degree. I hope that this accomplishes that for me and for you. I don't want you to have the ache I do. I want something tangible for you when you wonder about your childhood. While I know you can't actually touch the internet, not in 2011 anyways, this does serve as a record of events. So that's a start.