Big Girl Baby

So the other night, for reasons that are now completely mysterious to me, I watched Life As We Know It, and indeed yes, that is a bad movie.  But I found myself laughing pretty damn hard at the really familiar stuff--like waiting and waiting for the baby to walk, and then turning around and woops! she's gone.  Etc.  Really familiar material, and I'd seen it in movies a dozen times, but suddenly it's funny.  And I know that's just a sad, sad side effect of being a parent, but here's the thing--it wasn't funny before.  And I don't just mean before Willow, I mean three months ago. 



I couldn't figure it out--what happened to me to make this not-funny stuff funny?  And then it hit me.  It's because it's in the past.  I'm in the laugh-about-it-later stage.  And this is really good news, because it means I'm basically done with driving around in the car for hours to get her to sleep, done with listening to her cry for hours on end and being completely unable to do anything for her, done with holding her up under the fan over the stove because that's the only thing that will soothe her, done with sitting and staring at the wall because that's all she wants to do...

 

 

All done.  It is over.  Past.  But here's the thing--while I do miss that little face, oh, just about more than I can bear, the only thing I think would be worse would be if I didn't get to see this face every day.