2

Two years?? Two fuckin' YEARS?!? Whoa. I don't even WANNA know how THAT happens!

Seems more like two weeks ago that Tess woke me up in the middle of the night, claiming to have felt a *pop!* and wondered if it was her water breaking. The subsequent trip to the hospital…the confirmation that, yes indeed, that is amniotic fluid…the crashing realization: HOLY SHIT. We are having a baby. Like, today. The long wait for worthwhile contractions to show up…the pitocin to help 'em along…the labor and delivery that Tess, miracle woman that she is, accomplished with ZERO pain-management medication…and, finally, that beautiful face squalling into the world. Surely, that was only two weeks ago, right?

I remember so well being terrified of changing a diaper, for fear that I'd somehow fuck it up. Now, I wonder when her diapers, so fluffy and white and pure on arrival, came to look sort of mottled and scrungy, even when newly-laundered.

I remember so well the feel of her in the crook of my arm, falling asleep in the throes of a milk-coma. Now, I wonder when she got so big that she just…WALKS everywhere, and when she does want me to carry her, I can only go a block or so before my arms give out.

I remember so well her tiny cries, thinking about what her voice would sound like when she finally talked. Now, she just up and TELLS me shit: "I want a breakfast bar!", or, "Want to go outside play in sandbox!"

The Rozzle. No longer a baby. ALWAYS my baby. Feast yer eyes…

An Independence Day dress, complete with festive coronet.

Swimming with G at Interlochen.

Mesmerized by the opera singers.

"Hey, I'm big enough for this thing now!"

Coaxing her to blow out her candles.

ETA: I forgot to mention that, for those of you who either have way too much time on your hand, OR cannot get enough of The Rozzle…Papa has loaded lots of video onto YouTube. Search "brucepmiller" and you'll get almost more than you bargained for!