Today, you are 15 months old.
Today, you are 450 days, 10,800 hours, and 648,000 minutes.
Today, you wear a blue and white jumper and pink sparkly shoes.
Today, you have a vocabulary of 16 words. You can identify your eyes, ears, nose, mouth, tongue, belly, boobs and vagina. You can even attempt to say the word “vagina” as you poke you finger into mine.
Today, you turn somersaults on the grass and run through the house with glee.
Today, you are alive. You are full of energy. You are moving all day, just as you’re supposed to.
Today, you charge after our puppy with outstretched hands and a shrill screech.
Today, you are more beautiful than yesterday. You are smarter, kinder, faster. You are everything.
Today, you try to balance on a wooden pot, your bottle, and a white, plastic bowl.
Today, I turn around for only a moment and you have climbed up onto the coffee table, arms outstretched like a surfer, ready to catch an imaginary wave.
Today, you play by yourself and I watch you, amazed, enthralled, proud and so overwhelmed.
Today, you hug the back of my knees, my waist, and my neck.
Today, you give me 21 kisses ,12 hugs, and 32 smiles.
Today, you call me “mama” from 7a.m. to 7p.m. It is the best word I’ve ever heard.
Today, you are no longer a baby. You are growing into a little girl.
Today, I am so into being your mother, I know nothing else of what’s happening in the world.
Today, you help me make almond butter chocolate chip cookies and eat 13 blueberries and run through the house shouting “nana, nana!” until I gave you several bites of a banana.
Today, you nurse at 7:30 pm before pulling away and saying “night night” to let Alex read you a story and put you to bed.
Today, I get 37 minutes to myself, to sit down and write this, while Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis drones in the background and my hubby and puppy sit, curled beside me. And you, asleep in your room, a big girl at last.
Today, I honor you. I marvel. I blink and here you are, a fully formed being with shiny, blond hair, almond shaped eyes and 16 teeth nestled behind those pink lips.
Today, I think you are a baby genius because there’s nothing you cannot do or say or communicate.
Today, you wave hello to everyone you pass and several adults don’t see you or hear you. I call them assholes behind their backs and will people to look at you. How can you not see that my daughter is waving at you? Stop what you’re doing and marvel with me!!!!!!
Today, I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a granddaughter, an athlete, a nutritionist, a blogger, and an employee.
Today, I am quiet as I observe you, my daughter: Sophie Leona Holguin.
Today, as I have been every day over the last 15 months, I am entirely, completely, and irrevocably yours.