Faster, Stronger, Cuter...

I am amazed at what a cliche of a mother I am. Baby K is almost 10 months old and as I watch her grow and progress into a real person, I see myself develop as her mother and now understand so many of the hopes and fears I have seen in the women around me who also have children. I feel a surge of pride at every little hint of progress and am so grateful that out of the 6+ billion people on the planet, we chose each other before this life even began. (Although there is a good chance she chose Patrick as her father and I was just part of the package deal...)
There are also things about her already remind me of yours truly. She already has my temper, and my sense of humor- everything is funny to her regardless of whether anyone else is laughing. She sings to herself all the time. And she talks non-stop, to the dogs, to me, to her toys. She loves TV and books and likes to just be in her diaper. (My mom had to bribe me to put clothes on when people came over until I was five!)
And there are things about her that I hope she will never struggle with as I have. I pray she never worries about if she's pretty enough, or thin enough because she is too busy being captain of her soccer team. (I always wanted to play soccer but didn't start early enough.) I hope she is secure enough not to care if boys don't call instead of crying on the bathroom floor like someone else I know did. I hope she looks at all of the addiction in her family and never drinks, or even tries drugs. I pray she is much happier than I was growing up, and experiences more peace and security, knowing that patrick and I will always be there for her in a way my own parents weren't, and that with our support, she will be able to do anything, or nothing, and we will love her just the same.
I vacuumed today and saw a glimpse of my child that gave me pure satisfaction that she will indeed be more many things that I am not. I remember being little and sitting on the couch with my feet up off the floor, waiting in fear for my mom to take the vacuum into another room. I was convinced it would suck me up into its bag and I would be forced to exist among the dirt that was once on our floor. But not my child, she is not afraid of the vacuum as it loudly rolls along the tile- she crawls after it and laughs when I push it towards her toes. Already she laughs in the face of things that I have feared, let's hope we can keep her that way.