What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?
I am lucky to have one of these moments every night, when I put my little 'un to bed.
Every night, we follow the same routine. I draw her curtains, turn up the dimmer switch on her lamp, turn on the baby monitor night light. I pull back her blankets and arrange her various teddies (two small ones that she cuddles to sleep, a little Paddington Bear my Dad brought her from London, the little owl that makes hoo-hoo noises I bought her in New York, the big Elmo my sister gave her for Christmas last year, and the big monkey called Frank that my husband used to cuddle when he was a little 'un) and I marvel that there's room in the cot left for her!
We brush our teeth, stopping occasionally to clink our toothbrushes together and say "Cheers!". I change her into her jammies, zip her into her sleeping bag, and threaten not to read her any stories if she makes either task too difficult by writhing around (I've only had to follow through once, such is the pull of the story). We sit on her couch and read a number of stories, her favourite one being Tubby and the Lantern, in which she has embedded several sub-plots around a moustachioed character that slightly resembles her Papou.
Then I pick her up and give her "big Mummy cuddles" and kiss her sweet cheeks and sing the "na-ni-na-ni" song that Greek mothers have been singing to their babies probably forever, and she joins in. Most recently, she has taken this opportunity to put one hand on each of my cheeks, look me in the eyes and smile, "Kyeeeewt!", her deliberately hammy way of proclaiming me "cute". Often she puckers up and gives me a kiss, usually she rubs her nose gently against mine.
Last night, while she had my cheeks in her hands, she sighed happily, "My favourite!".
I tuck my little girl into bed with her two little teddies and she smiles, blows me kisses or waves or pretends to hide behind her hands. This is the only time she'll suck her thumb, as I taught her to do when she was almost three months old. Sometimes she asks to take a book to bed with her. She usually prattles away to herself for fifteen or so minutes, then the baby monitor falls silent.
All of these things tell me that everything is OK. That my baby, not-a-baby-big-girl, is doing OK. That I'm OK. That it's time to rest. And that tomorrow will be a new day.
[Pictured is my splendidly "antiperfect" card made by the lovely Krissie.]