You're Gonna Miss This

Trace Adkins totally has my number. Cheesy country songs are my soundtrack now.

I sat down to make a list that I started while walking Gracie around this morning for two hours, up and down the same half-mile expanse of street that I have determined to be the only continuously-ramped, non-bumpy, shaded sidewalk in all of Tacoma. This oh-so-original list is called "Someday I will do these things again."

• Watch a full-length movie
• Plan my day around something other than naps
• Make my own salad dressing
• Okay, who am I kidding: Eat a salad (they take too long to eat! I now decide what to order in a restaurant based on how quickly I can chew and swallow it)
• View 7:00 a.m. as a reasonable wake-up time, not mid-morning; view 5:30 as an ungodly hour rather than "sleeping in"

Then I realized, I need to remember that in a few months, I will never do these things again:

• Hold a sleeping Gracie on my chest and end up with an imprint of her ear on my skin (she's getting heavy!)
• Get whacked in the face by Grace's flailing arms as she shrieks with delight when I let her hold a piece of paper
• Feed her a sliver of a new food from my finger and watch her face go through an array of expressions (concern, contemplation, satisfaction) at the novel experience
• Witness her pure wonder at: flipping a light switch, holding her hand under the running faucet, holding a cardboard box 
• Trying to figure out what made her giggle, and realizing it was probably that she just pooped or otherwise made herself more comfortable (okay, this one could continue for a few years, more if she has her dad's sense of humor)

This is the list I will be adding to. My Trace Adkins, "You're gonna miss this" list, intoned in a deep baritone with a faux country twang. Sleep training and sleepless nights will NOT be on the list, no matter what some well-meaning grandmothers say, however.