By Maddie Wood 
Today is one of those days you can only describe as “one of those days.” It seems like we have a lot of them lately, it seems like I’m always chasing you. My parenting books describe you as “a highly active baby,” which really means watch out because your 8-month-old has super powers and is allergic to naps.
Today you have climbed the bookshelf and pulled all the books out one by one while tearing the pages, tried to chew on a cable cord, and eaten dog food. You have tried to climb out of the bathtub and you have tried to climb onto the toilet, which added a new bruise to your growing collection. You also tried to stand up in a moving shopping cart at the grocery store. The house is a mess. I’m a mess. I can’t remember if I brushed my teeth this morning. I’m hungry and I’m tired. For lunch, I stood at the kitchen counter shamelessly gnawing on a cold, 3 day old rotisserie chicken leg like a starving cave-woman because who has time for warm food?
Have I mentioned it’s not even noon yet? Is it 5:00 somewhere? Because I need a margarita. Or seven. And a cookie. Or twelve.
Sometimes I can barely keep up with you. If it’s there, you’ll find it, if it’s climbable, you’ll climb it. Even when I’m 100% sure you can’t reach it, you’ll reach it. Even when I think I have baby proofed the entire house, you prove me wrong. By the way, shout out to Jesus for baby proofing, because sometimes I think it’s the only thing keeping you alive. It feels like I’m always chasing you, Super Girl, but I think I said that already. Is it bad I sometimes look forward to your 7:00 bedtime? We have 7 hours to go. In the next 7 hours I will predict I will say “no ma’am that’s dangerous” 18 times, kiss 3 new boo boos, and drink 2 more cups of coffee. I also predict I will whine a little to your daddy when he gets home later, but I promise you, even though your endless energy is my greatest challenge as your mommy, I think it’s my favorite thing about you.
No matter how desperately tired I get, I hope I am always chasing you, because I desperately hope you are always running forward, reaching for what you want.
The point is I never really know what to expect with you. You keep me on my toes. My tippy toes, actually. Each day is different, but there is one thing I know will always be the same. Tonight, like every night, you will lay your head on my chest in a milky haze and look at me with sleepy blue eyes. You will nestle your face in my neck, pull your knees in close, and drift to sleep. I could lie you down and you would never know, but I won’t. I could run full speed for that margarita and cookie, but I don’t. We will sit and rock in the darkness of your room as the heaviness of the day lifts from our bodies. I’ll feel your cheek on my cheek and your little breaths on my shoulder and I’ll squeeze you tight. You aren’t still very often anymore, especially in my arms, so I’ll sit a little longer and let it soak. No matter how crazy our day was, how many times you tried to eat dog food, or how many times I thought I might go cuckoo, these moments in the dark with you are worth it all. These moments when we finally find that space between the chaos and the crazy are what I look forward to all day. An hour ago I thought I might die of exhaustion, but somehow now, I am fully recharged. I’ll finally lay you down, tip toe out, and close the door. And as soon as that door is shut, I’ll miss you while you sleep, every single time.
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