I love my little gal. And I’m pretty sure she loves me too. I know she loves my boobs, but I’d like to think she also loves me, her mom. Perhaps maybe she loves the way I tickle her belly, I rub the fuzzy little hairs on top of her head, I let her nuzzle her nose into my neck, the way I sing off key to her, how I tell her she’s important to me everyday for the rest of her days. I think she loves me for more than my boobs? I can tell because she’s started smiling at me.
I.melt.every.single.freaking.time.just my favorite little person
And to pull this slightly away from her, because I said I wouldn’t just write about her (although that is what I do 24 hours a day is hang around that gal), but how often do we let those around us know that how they love us is working. Yes, husband dearest, I do feel loved by you. I feel it in my guts when I see you so diligently sewing away on your many projects and when you come riding home at night and your headlamp shines into the family room to see your two gals hanging out. And yes, dear mother, I feel your love when you call just to chat even though we live so close and we never had chatty phone calls when I lived thousands of miles away, but now we do, and it’s so nice (and also when you clean my house while you watch our baby while I’m at class).
Right now, all Ev can give me is some smiles, well and a loaded dose of oxytocin every time she’s eating that makes me fall in love with her, but those smiles, OH those smiles. I want to give all those I love those smiles because I love you and I feel so incredibly loved by you.
because I love you everyday.