One of my new favorite things is that last kiss that I give to Annabelle before I tuck myself in. For years, I couldn't go into her room after she had fallen asleep. She would immediately wake up and want to nurse as a baby and then have me read her a story or rub her back or sing one last song once she was older. Mark could go into her room every night and give her that one last kiss. Check on her if she wasn't feeling well so we'd have a gauge on when we'd be up again.
I never could. It was like she new my tread, knew when I was stepping over the thresh hold of her room. She would always wake up. It was something that I was jealous of. Mark could do it, my friends would talk about that last kiss or tucking in errant covers, but I couldn't do it. Until now.
The last few months, I've been able to go to her room and give her one last kiss on her sweet, little rosebud lips. Stroke her forehead, hold her hand. I tuck her Pooh Bears firmly under her arm and as she rolls over, she often murmurs, mama. She still knows I'm there.
There are many parts of parenting that are hard. Things that people talk about but is inconceivable to a non-parent to understand. Heck, it's even hard for me to understand the parenting woes that my friends and family go through because their kid isn't mine. But it's those small things, the kisses and hugs, the routine of our lives, that make the rough days better and make me so happy to have my little girl. I hope I'll be able to sneak into her for one last kiss for a very long time.