New Rhythms

Time passes with a salsa beat -- quick, quick slow. The Z-Baby is now three months going on four, with neck control and a penchant for grabbing things. She has one new cousin, a girl. Her other cousin is now in New Jersey, transplanted from Texas. Quick, quick, slow.

The quick moments whirl around, keeping me on my toes in the dance. It's in the slow moments that I stop, catch my breath, and take a moment to be grateful for my life. Take a moment to pause, marveling at the sweetness of my baby's laugh, the wonderment of her easy smile.

I can hardly wait for her to get older, to see her walk and talk and sleep. Yet I know when those days come I will miss these days, when she cooed at me from my lap, when she fed at 3 a.m., nose buried in breast.

The bittersweet center of parenting is that you wish things would change, that quickly, quickly your child would sleep, would pass the age of SIDS danger, would hold her head up. Then, when it happens, as it happens, you wish your child would stay the same, would slow down, would stay your baby even as you see her down the path to eventual toddlerhood.