Sweet summer, I'll miss you

This was, by far, the best summer I've ever had. I know I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: I cannot believe how much Madeline has changed and grown during the last few months. Watching her grow up is bittersweet but definitely one of my favorite aspects of parenting.

This summer holds such sweet memories and good times.

Like Madeline's first birthday, which was more fun, emotional and special than I anticipated. (If I can dare offer one "I know you didn't ask for it but here it is" piece of advice, it's this: if you are planning a big first birthday bash, plan for special family time on your child's birthday as well. We had so much fun celebrating her birthday with our large family but I'll always cherish the memories on her actual birthday with just Joe, Madeline and me.)

Or how hard she cried when she got her first injury, a goose-egg after she fell down the stairs. And that I cried with her.

How everyone told me I should dread her walking but they forgot to mention how sweet it would be to hold her hand.

I'll never forget her look of sheer excitement when she realized I understood her for the first time after she pointed to a fish and said "ish!" And how the talking hasn't stopped since then.

Or the night she christened our floors with its first poop.

Or all the afternoons she and I read books side-by-side on our porch swing and how my heart would actually hurt with the realization that she's growing up.

Like all the memories we have of reading her first favorite book together, "How Does a Dinosaur Go to School." We've renewed it NINE whopping times from the library. Please don't request it or I'll have to actually buy her a copy.

How she never was interested in watching the TV until the Olympics. And how I laughed behind her back as she imitated the gymnasts by gracefully extending and twirling her arms and legs.

Or how funny it was to watch her vehemently hate sand. And then love it.

Or watching her utter joy at chasing bubbles around the backyard.

To me, it's sad that she will never remember these moments. The million trips to the park. The visits from grandparents. The snuggling at dusk.

But I'll remember them and tell her about this summer when she's older. And I'll let her know she exceeded my expectations of being a mom during summertime.