Dear Empress Eleanor,

I love you.  At 7 months old you are small but mighty.  You get excited and begin scrambling to crawl up and over me. And when you want something, you can overpower me and literally force your way to it.  You have begun to really enjoy getting tickled and there are lots of peals of laughter.  And you recently pushed yourself up, arms straight.  Once you can get your knees under you we'll be in trouble!

I love that you and I continue to share a really close bond.  That you love to just stare up at me when I'm wearing you, or just look at me in the mornings and smile.  And lately you've begun to grab my head, turn it how you want it and lay a smooch on me. 

You are thriving, no matter what your weight tells.  You are considered the "smiliest baby ever" by so many people.  You are strong.  And smart.  You seem to be picking up new skills almost daily (which terrifies me a bit).  And I love getting to just watch you watch the world.

Love,
Mama

Enduring

Today I've questioned my ability and my desire to be a mother.  So many people tell us that we're amazing parents and that we definitely seem to love this.  And most of the time, I do.  Most of the time I look at you, my sweet, smiling daughter and my heart swells and I love being your mama. 

And then there are days like today.  Days where I find myself just wishing you wouldn't need me so much, that you'd shutup and stop fussing, and that for the love of God why can't you find comfort in your daddy's arms the same as mine.  Where you won't nap or play by yourself.  Where I shout and snap and can't seem to catch a break.  And I cry and you laugh because everything I do you delight in. 

I feel so in over my head.  I work so hard to pump an extra few ounces in between feedings, terrified you aren't getting enough, only to discover you really don't like taking a bottle.  I used to dream of a plump little roly poly baby and now I spend most days stressing over how slender you are. 

Some day you're going to be a mama and you'll read this and understand.  Never have I loved something that pushes me so far to my limits of endurance.  I don't know why God made me your mama, and I am sure I'll fail often.  But I am determined to do the best I can.