I blog to remember.

I remember in those dizzying early days, when sleep was a luxury and the days were fuzzy with drunken exhaustion, I would lay on the couch with a newborn Alexis. She would be sprawled across my chest, content to cuddle as the two of us slipped in and out of consciousness. I remember how her soft, sweet-smelling little head fit so perfectly on my shoulder as her feet kicked me in the stomach, much as they had for the months leading up to her birth.

I remember months later flipping through channels on the TV and glancing down to notice that the child who had just moments before been twitching with the boundless energy only a one-year old can muster, was suddenly silent as she sat gazing intently at the women in the fancy dresses and the men in their ruffled, sheer shirts. Alexis watched as they spun and leaped and pranced, her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

I will remember the moment it dawned on me that Alexis would probably like to watch that show again, now that she's older and wiser and most certainly a fan of dance. I will remember how she slid up on the couch, politely asked me to join her, and then snuggled in at my side, her little arms wrapped tightly around my right arm and her head resting peacefully at my side. I will remember how I decided that the moment was precious and perfect and needed as I cast aside all distractions and pulled my little girl into my arms so we could watch the show together. I will remember how her now bigger and definitely fuzzier head still fits perfectly on my shoulder, but how her legs have grown longer and how her kicks now graze my shins. I will remember the glimmer in her eye, the twinkle in her voice, and the joy in her face as she soaked in a full hour of cuddles while we sat on the couch together, watching Dancing with the Stars.

Yeah, it's a lame show, but I will remember it all.