Someday she'll grow up

Sometimes I forget that one day she'll grow up. Sometimes I think we'll always have time to snuggle together before bedtime and read an endless number of books.  I forget that one day she wont be a one year old anymore and she wont always need help getting down the stairs.  It will be a little bit of a sad day when I, her mother, am not the first thing on her mind when she wakes in the morning.  Weather I can picture it or not, one day she'll get her own breakfast and she'll craft her own opinions of the world.  One day I'll wish she was a little more reliant on me and a tad less independent.

Some days, in a mothering haze, I wish to speed things up. I just want to take a shower in peace without little hands and whining sounds coming through the crack at the bottom of the door.  Some days I tacitly tell myself that I'd exchange life's simple joys all for shoes to get on quicker.  But then, I look at her with her blue eyes and curly hair and I smile and think "Ah, what's the rush?" and get back to washing sippy cups.