I remember rocking my son when he was about six months old. We were still in our condo and it was hot. Sticky, late July type hot. I remember his legs dangling down, his toes bouncing off my hips and thinking how amazing it was that he was so big. How before I knew it I wouldn't be able to hold him like this, like I could wrap him safe from the world in my arms.

I just went in and held Lila who woke from a dream and needed a quick snuggle. She's three times the age that my son was way back when, and her legs dangle down to my sides. And all I could think was, how did I get here so quickly? Not only one, but two children outgrowing me at warp speed.

What's different about watching Lila is that she's growing, in a lot of ways, into a miniature version of me. Stubborn. Headstrong. Loud. Dramatic. Flirtatious. She's a total ham, and she has a wicked sense of style (as is evidenced by the outfit she insisted on wearing today after her bath:)

Yeah, that's my girl.

(Is it wrong that I secretly wish that I could pull off this look myself?)

In other news, I've been somewhat successful at finishing some stories lately. I've had some interest from a local book publisher (nothing to get excited about mind you, but still, interest is nice) and some lit magazine submissions that have been floating out there for long enough that I'm starting to wonder if people might be biting. Had a re-write request tonight from a journal I've submitted to (and been rejected by) in the past, so that was progress. And it was nice to have feedback on my work in general. Another reason why the trip to the conference this summer should be well worth it.