I love autumn for the same reasons that everyone else does. Leaves, football, using my wallet to salute anything pumpkin flavored and gimmicky...Jackets, leather boots, finally breaking free of the a.c. ... Autumn is wonderful, but, I have to be honest: I also hate it too.
For me, at least, the beginning of Autumn feels like a 'mid year' crisis. Not a big one, mind you. But a panic the length of exactly one heartbeat when I realize how much of the year has passed. Winter graciously takes a curtain call to the young upstart spring. No more eager anticipation of tiny buds transforming into green ash leaves outside my window. Forget the happy surprise on the day that I turned my heat off in the house and rolled down the windows in my car. Good bye to barbecue parties with neighbors and friends. Even though I look forward to autumn, I do already miss the other season's 'favorite things' and it makes me wonder if this is what parenting looks like.
Tomorrow, Zoey turns 11 weeks old. Really, 'old' is a misnomer for her, but I am finding that I already miss some things about her newborn life.
I laugh out loud when I think of the first long ride home from Germantown, and when we took her out of the carseat when we got into the house. I looked at Wes, he looked at me, and we could read each other's facial mixture of happy panic.
I giggle at my response to her the first time she shrieked or growled, and the first time that I didn't have to get up every two hours at night for feedings.
I smile when I think about how I begged her to smile when she was awake and when she finally did, it was simply glorious.
I don't think its exactly fair to say that I am having a mid baby crisis, because Z isn't even 6 months old, but I am already fondly remembering many, many firsts, and savoring them like the last bit of summer sunset.
I always wondered why parents of children older than mine always get this funny look in their eyes when they warn me that childhood goes too quickly. If I could describe it, I think its a mixture of joy and panic.
