At this moment, four years ago, I was reveling in my beautiful newborn baby girl. (As beautiful as only a wrinkly, squalling, red, freshly birthed baby can be to her mama)
My Moo Cow was born on the early morning hours of Thanksgiving. The first few days of this pretty lady’s life were tranquil, content. Our little family was complete and she was healthy and happy. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the chaos this girl would unleash upon our family.
I was not prepared for the sassy-pants-ness of my Moo.
I was not prepared for her deep devotion of her big brother and how difficult parenting could be when they join forces.
I was not prepared for her hatred of all things fun.
I was not prepared for the utter despair she could bring about with a pair of safety scissors.
I was not prepared for this face.
Or this one.
And I was not prepared for this deep, unwavering love she has for her mama.
She loves me. She humbles me. She finishes me.
And for all her craziness, she finishes our family.