I can’t fight this feeling anymore.

Recently, a friend of mine (and fellow new Mama) wondered aloud if she would remember the exact feeling she got every time her five-month-old son smiled up at her from his crib in the morning.     She said that while she could video tape it, or write it in his baby book, she didn’t think there was any way she could ever really capture how special that is.

Time is flying by with Dee.    Her four-month birthday has come and gone, and I hardly recognize her as the tiny newborn that was laid on my chest in her first moments of life.     As I write this, she’s napping in her swing – something she does less and less these days, and she’s smiling to herself, something she does more and more of.     There is so much I want to remember about this time – I want to soak in every second of her like this before she inevitably discovers that there is a world of people out there, most of whom are much cooler than Mommy.

I love how hold-able she is right now.    When I scoop her up after a nap, she nuzzles into my neck and wraps her arms around me in this heart-melting baby hug.   I can smell her sweet little smell, and she’s always so warm, it’s just the most wonderful thing.   I never want to forget that feeling.

And she laughs every.single.time I laugh.    Even if she’s crying.    It’s insane.   (Although I do try not to make a habit of laughing at her while she’s crying…)   If you talk right to her she gets so excited, her little eyes bug out, and she twists her tongue into all kind of crazy directions while she unleashes her very best imitation monologue.    I’m a talker, so Dee gets a constant narration of the day’s events, and we go all day long this way – chit chatting and laughing at each other.

I love changing her diapers.    I mean, I could do without the poop and pee, but ever since the day we brought her home, her changing area has been her favorite spot – if she’s having a rough moment, laying her down for a diaper change always centers her.    It’s where she first starting babbling, where we saw her first smiles, where she spent her first moments of awake-alert time as a newborn.    She giggles wildly every time I pull and arm or a leg out of her clothing, like it’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to her at every wardrobe change.

And in the early evenings when Scott plays the drums, Dee and I lay down on the living room floor for tummy time, directly above his practice room, and she bops her head and does “the Stevie Wonder” to the beat.   (Well, she tries anyway, and I hope I always remember the sheer joy I get from watching her.)

I love that when I nurse her in our bed in the morning, and we both drift back off for a few more zzzz’s, that she rest her head on my boob like it’s a pillow, and snuggles in tightly, humming faintly with every exhale, tickling my stomach with her toes.    And when I get up, leaving her in bed with her Daddy, she finds her way over to him.   Sometimes she cuddles up and goes back to sleep.     Sometimes she chirps at him until he wakes up and plays with her.   Either way, it’s a show not to be missed.

And oh my god, the smiles.   She has like, twenty-eight different smiles, and they all mean something precise.   The “I don’t know what you’re saying to me, but I think it might be play-time” half-smirk.    The “I see a boobie coming at me” open-mouth grin.    The “that kind of scared me, but I liked it” gum-flash.   The “I’m faking it but it’s working” mid-cry grimace.    The “Isn’t it hilarious that I’m pooping while you’re trying to wipe my ass?” beaming cackle.    The list goes on and on.

And also, this:

OMG, and I didn’t even know when I went searching for this video how perfectly cheesy it would be.    Thanks for never letting me down, REO Speedwagon.