Baby

When I started this blog--Lo! These many moons ago--Odessa was not yet a year old. In fact, she still drank milk that came from my boobs like 7-8 times a day.  I can hardly remember what that was like.

But I started writing here because I felt like saying something other than, "Shhhhhhhhhh shhhh shhhhhhhhhhhhhh shhhhhhh shhh..." and, "You want another bite? Anoooooother bite. Just one more bite for me? Is it yucky? It's not yucky! It's good! Just one more bite..."

You get the idea.  And back then she looked like this:

You don't have to tell ME she was the cutest baby in the whole wide world. But then she got bigger and bigger and then--just today, actually--she turned FOUR.  

My little baby is four, and she's the cutest four year old in the whole wide world.  Pardon me while I type bravely through the tears. 

I'm too sleepy to write much because, well--if that picture up there was taken first thing this morning, this one was taken at 8:30 PM at the frozen yogurt place:

Long day.

Anyway, somebody I just sort of know recently asked me whether she should have kids or not, and I didn't have any words to answer the question with.  No words.  Because this little muffin is both the reason I get up in the morning and the reason I can't face getting up in the morning. 

I always do get up, regardless. 

Motherhood is the strangest paradox on Earth.  Thank you, Odessa, for being my paradox partner.