I'm afraid that I'll forget the little moments. The ones that make up the days, weeks, months that seem to have simply, WHOOSH, flown right on by. How is it that Matthew is closer to three, than two? Beloved Luke was just born, wasn't he? How'd he get to be 7 months old?
Seems that I spend so much energy just getting through, that I've forgotten to savour the sweet spots - the way Luke's whole face lights up when I tiptoe in to see if he's awake yet. The way his whole body wriggles with delight the second he sees his big brother. I can't even begin to describe what it does to my heart, watching Luke, watch Matthew. I swear there are days when I can hear the crack.
Matthew's newest phrase: "Mummy! I love you soooooooooooo much! I go to work now!" as he hops into his little plastic car and trundles all the way to the bathroom. "Mummy, I hooommmee!"
They are so happy, these leprechauns. Despite a bad case of the naughties this week, Matthew is so good-natured and eager - to please, to love, to laugh. He sings a dozen songs, including a Dutch ditty my Dad's been teaching him since birth, practically. I caught him showing Luke the hand motions that go with, and felt my heart grow three sizes. He knows that "Godspeed" by the Dixie Chicks is our "Mummy/Matthew" song, and that "Send Me on My Way" by Rusted Root is Lukey's.
He calls Luke, "Lukey Pookers," like I do and cups his face to bestow kisses. Just like me. Sigh.
Luke. Sweet Luke. SO happy. So content. He's hysterically fat, and I could eat every inch of him. Yesterday I snagged a quick video of him "conducting" Beethoven's Sonata - it's mostly clapping and yummy naked baby-ness, but it's typical of his temperament and one of the reasons I fall in love with him a little bit more every day. I want to nurse him forever, just to keep him close.
I know there are more. More songs, more kisses, more toothy grins. Little touches of magic. More moments that give me pause and make me so grateful to these miracles that I call mine. I know that I need to write them down sooner, and not wait until "later."
Because "later" it seems, turns into 7 months. And pretty soon, "later" will be traipsing off to kindergarten, leaving his proud and blessed Mama to sit quietly, missing it all.