Can I just "aw" myself?

I ran outside today. It was 20 degrees. WICKED COLD. And yet I did it, anyway, and felt good about it.  Also, I wrapped up a 3-month-long project at work, picked my sick daughter up from daycare, and took care of her by myself all night from nap to playtime to dinner to bath to snuggle time to bed. Sometimes I am actually willing to admit that I rock. Today is one of those times.

When we were little, my brother and I used to go on day trips with my dad most weekends. My mom worked 3-11 so our Saturday afternoons were filled with museum visits, McDonald's trips, and drives to places like Hop Brook and Hamilton Park. Ryan and I would each grab one of Dad's thumbs and we would all walk hand-in-hand. I can still clearly remember the feeling of Dad's slightly rough, dry skin as I clenched his hand tightly. His thumb seemed so much larger than mine, which made me feel safe and secure. As long as I was holding Dad's hand, nothing bad could ever happen to me.

Now that I am older, I long for that same sense of security. I have witnessed so much sadness this past year: death...loss...heartache...vulnerability...and lives forever changed. I spend too much time thinking "what if" instead of being grateful for what I have. I wake up every morning and make sure that my husband and daughter are still breathing. I even check the cat. I know that sounds ridiculous, and it probably is to an extent, but I can't imagine life without any of them. And yet I have seen beautiful lives like ours ripped at the seams in an instant. I know that I can't count on everyone I love being here forever, but I want to do everything in my power to will them to be.

As my generation enters their 30s, we realize that our parents are in their 60s. Even if they live to their mid-80s or early 90s, that only gives us 20+ more years together...which means that we have already passed the halfway mark of all the time we have to spend with them. While a very obvious conclusion to draw, this thought saddens me.

Today is the one year anniversary of my uncle's senseless death. I have already written about him recently, so I am not going to into detail other than to say that I miss him so much. Yesterday was my birthday. Last night I found out from my mom that one of my brother's best friends lost his 28-year-old brother-in-law to an apparent heart attack. His wife (my brother's friend's sister) found him when she went home to pick him up to go pick out their Christmas tree. My heart just breaks for her.

I am sorry that this post isn't very uplifting, especially since we are so close to the holidays. I just had to get it off my chest. My thoughts are with everyone who lost someone this holiday season; especially Angela, Heather, Rose, and their families.

I am totally exhausted. I don't know how stay-at-home moms do everything they do. Or single moms, for that matter. Today Ashlyn was a little on the cranky side (verging on a lot on the cranky side at various points during the day) and Jeff was downstairs creating a presentation for one of his classes.  It was freezing cold outside so I didn't feel like leaving the house, which basically meant it was up to me to entertain my little girl for about 13 hours straight right here. We played with blocks and Legos and nesting toys and the Playskool Busy Ball Popper (which she LOVES!)...we read books and practiced standing and took a bath...then, this evening I broke out the new camera, the Rudolph headband, ornaments, lights, and Ash's "Team Santa" outfit to attempt a holiday photo shoot. She single-handedly destroyed a number of my wrapped presents (crash! sideswipe! reacchhhh and thrust), shoved a strand of lights in her mouth, and bounced a breakable ornament like a ball. I took over 40 pictures but I can almost guarantee that not *one* will end up on our holiday card. Ash threw a tantrum when I put her pjs on, arching her back and flailing around wildly, nearly knocking herself out on the changing table. Then there were slight hysterics and salty tears followed by a large bottle and bedtime. As I'm sitting here typing this, I can barely keep my eyes open and it's just a little after 8:30.

A year ago tonight Jeff and I didn't even know who she was. We had just gotten home from my baby shower. Right about now Jeff was putting together the swing and I was sorting through the new clothes, ripping out tags and arranging them into piles that varied by size. (Looking back at the 0-3 stuff is almost surreal; how was she ever that little?!) It was also the last time I ever saw Uncle Billy. Hard to believe. I know Ashlyn so well now and it's crazy to think that he never met her and never will. If you had told me that night what I would be dealing with a mere week from then, and where my life would be now, I don't think I ever would have believed it.

I have been thinking about him a lot lately...I mean not a day has gone by that I haven't, but I guess the holidays/anniversary certainly make it that much more pervasive. I wish more than anything that we could bring him back. I had a dream two nights ago that he was sitting at a table writing a note and he looked upset. I could distinctly see myself walking over to him and putting my arms around him as my dad watched in the background. It would be so wonderful if that were possible. Life is too short, and you never know when you are giving someone a hug for the last time. Just make sure you always hug and love like you mean it.

I couldn't love Ashlyn more if I tried. I look at my perfect little girl when she's in my lap, eyes half-droopy with sleep; when she's squealing and her two little bottom teeth are sticking out; when she's pouting and waving her hand in my face to "go away, Mommy"; and when she wakes up in the morning, beaming and kicking her feet together because she's so happy to see me, and I think that I just can't lose her. She has to live until she's at least 100 and even that isn't long enough. I hope she's always as happy as she can be, and that if she isn't, that she reaches out for help. I want her to know that she is the best thing I have ever created, that I am already so proud of her. Despite all of the day-to-day craziness of raising a child, there is nothing in the world as rewarding or fulfilling.