This week saw Baby T tick over the nine months mark. I paused on that day, Wednesday, to scribble some notes into my diary on what she's up to, things I think about her, bits and pieces I would like to remember. Shamefully, that was my only entry in my diary so far this year. Months have slipped by, unrecorded on paper.
It's funny, I have many, many photos of her. Lots of video of her progress (I don't think we had a video camera till E was about 1), but not many words. As a words person that does bother me, so I am hoping to update my diary every month or so from now on.
But even a diary isn't going to do the impossible, which is to capture the feel of her. The way she stretches out her legs when I pick her up out of her cot; the fuzziness of her bumpy bald skull; her funny little shrieks and coos as she snatches the glasses off my face for the umpteenth time; the beauty of her heavy eyelids as she breastfeeds herself to sleep; her indescribably lovely baby smell as I nuzzle into her neck and ear.
I often find myself imploring my brain, "c'mon, burn this, retain this, store this..."
I hope to never forget.