Counting Baby Years

Happy Birthday to my precious baby girl – Kassidi McKayla Kaminski – the angel who made me a momma.

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

Somehow in the last 30 minutes or so, baby girl has grown up. Tomorrow, in fact, she turns 26 years-old, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how that happened. I still have her crib. I still have her high chair. I still have all of her American Girl dolls, her homecoming mums and her trophies. I still have her ridiculously fabulous baby dresses. I may or may not have an issue letting go of things. Since it’s a special occasion, just let that go.

Mr. Kaminski and I still live in the house where we raised our babies. Sometimes at night, I still hear their footsteps upstairs. I could always tell who was up and moving around based on the sound of their footsteps. Any time one would come downstairs in the night with a problem and think they were waking me, I was already up. I heard them coming. It’s a momma thing.

I don’t particularly like this growing-up thing. I look into baby girl’s eyes, and I see her at six – not 26. My mind understands she’s grown; my momma heart does not comprehend at all.

This time thing is a slippery slope. Mawmaw used to tell me just how quickly time passes. I never understood that as a child as I felt time crept by at a snail’s pace, particularly when I was in school anxiously waiting for summer. It took eons to complete a school year, but in Mawmaw’s eyes, it just was a minute. I get that now.

Time truly is our most precious resource, one that we often take for granted. That is one lesson I pray to impart to Kassidi and Kolton as a parent: Your time is the greatest gift you can give someone. And it’s fleeting, unfairly so.

Mr. Kaminski’s response to my baby blues 26 years later is that I don’t like change. I will drive my car until it won’t go any further or the engine catches on fire. In my defense, it was a small fire. And I will fight tooth and nail getting a new car, because I knew where all of the buttons were on the old one. And don’t get me started on color. That sweet Kenneth at Mercedes Sugar Land knows I want black or black, and if black isn’t available, get black.

Just the other day, Bub went to the A T & T store with me because my phone finally died while I was out of town. It was an iPhone 6 with a home button. And I absolutely loathe my new fancy iPhone. Somebody moved all of the buttons and icons simply to vex me I’m certain.

Every year when Mr. Kaminski gets the Christmas trees out, I immediately refer to the Holiday Décor folder in my photos to make certain he puts the right tree in the right spot, and we put the correct decorations on said tree. They all have themes. Lucas did that for me several years back. It works, they work and they look fabulous. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. A few years ago, Mr. Kaminski bought a new Christmas tree for our main tree in our living room and put it up for us to decorate. A new tree – not the one we always put up where all of the garland fits perfectly. Yes, he took it down and put the old one up.

So maybe Mr. Kaminski has a point about this change thing, but for heaven’s sake, don’t mention to him that he may be on to something that’s likely accurate when it comes to me. I’ll be busy celebrating my baby girl’s birthday with her, likely with a cocktail now that’s she of age. Same amazing human, same celebration of her, same day she made me a momma – just celebrating with a margarita instead of a juice box. I guess some change is okay.

Happy Birthday Sassy! I know you’re 26, but you’ll always be momma’s baby girl. See y’all next week – on the porch!


Patti Parish-Kaminski

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