a day.

My Samuel is out of town this weekend, up in Chicago helping our
friends the Bozzay's put their house back together after some
construction projects uncovered more problems that extended their
projects unexpectedly. These things happen. And I'm stoked that he
can be around another good man pal who helps build him up. But today
was just a bit of a day. Millie was up for an hour in the middle of
the night last night teething, Lydia woke up whiny and proceeded to
make it her theme for the day; I don't have a car so was feeling a
bit fenced in; and Millie also continued to be fussy throughout the
day. A big box came in the mail from my mom today, since they
cancelled their trip to visit (which also made me sulk today). It
contained the girls' birthday gifts (oh my, mugs and bowls with their
pictures on them! They were thrilled.), and two fabulous books for
them. I read the one and just sat and cried. There was wrapping all
over the livingroom, Millie was tearing it to bits, Lydia was trying
to comfort me, and I was literally sitting in the middle of it,
crying, realizing that these are the moments that life is made up of,
and I don't want to wish any of them away, even the rough ones. The
book is titled "someday", and I'll completely spoil it for you by
putting all of it right here. The illustrations are charming, and
completely "make" the book. If you are the mother of a girl, you must
get this book.

One day, I counted your fingers and kissed each one.
One day, the first snowflakes fell, and I help you up and watched
them melt on your baby skin.
One day, we crossed the street, and you help my hand tight.
Then, you were my baby, and now you are my child.

Sometimes, when you sleep, I watch you dream, and I dream too...
That someday you will dive into the cool, clear water of a lake.
Someday you will walk into a deep wood.
Someday your eyes will be filled with a joy so deep that they shine.
Someday you will run so fast and so far your heart will feel like fire.
Someday you will swing high - so high, higher than you ever dared to
swing.
Someday you will hear something so sad that you will fold up with
sorrow. (amazing illustration of a teenager with her legs pulled up
to her in an armchair, with a letter on the floor)
Someday you will call a song to the wind, and the wind will carry
your song away.
Someday I will stand on this porch and watch your arms waving to me
until I no longer see you.
Someday you will look at this house and wonder how something that
feels so large can look so small.

Someday you will feel a weight against your strong back. (shows a
young mother giving a piggyback ride)
Someday I will watch you brushing your child's hair.
Someday, a long time from now, your own hair will glow silver in the
sun. (lovely illustration of the back view of an older woman sitting
in an adirondack chair on a porch, watching the sunset)
And when that day comes, love, you will remember me. (And it shows a
framed photo sitting on an end-table - the photo that was the
illustration from the first page where the mom was counting her
fingers).

Completely full circle. It made today seem very tiny in the big
picture of things.

And made me in a strange way, much more cognizant of the future of
the memories we are creating. I'm getting ready to order some large
prints of photos, and now I'm thinking - what would my children want
to look at someday when they're grown and want to post cherished
photos on their walls? Will they want just a cute photo of them? Or
would they want a photo of them flashing a big smile to sam or I, us
in the picture, smiling back at them. It just made me think.