Digging Wells

I fear we may have a little Freud on our hands. Lately she's been known to take your hand, lead you to the nearest couch and squeak out these words: "Sit down. Let's talk."


SAY WHAT? 


The first time this happened I laughed and cried simultaneously because that is hilarious coming from someone two feet tall and WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE? Independent thoughts? A sense of humor? I can't believe this is happening already.


So when she pooped the other day and said to me, "Oh my gosh, it stinks." I thought maybe it's time to potty train? This will be the final straw. Potty trained and in a regular bed and she'll be an official person living in this house, no longer a baby.


It has been such a blur. I'm proud of myself for making it this far. I'll be the first to admit, I'm not one to stick with things and see them through. I'm not sure what I expected myself to do - kill over, maybe? But I haven't! I've woken up every single day for the past 21 months and kissed that little girl and changed her diapers and kept her fed, happy, healthy and learning! Miraculous!


It's like marriage for me. I just jumped into something that's so permanent. Something I've been historically bad about persevering through (relationships) and that permanence of a covenant has done it for me. Tipped the scales and allowed my heart to fully commit to one thing. To one person. It's like I'm digging a well in this one spot and if I hit solid rock, I'm busting out my jack hammer and I'll keep digging and digging till I hit water. Because really, what good does it do to make shallow holes all over the place? And really, there is solid rock in every hole you try to dig. You just have to commit, remove the option of quitting from your mind and suddenly you're not a quitter!


That was profound, you guys. I'm copyrighting that.