Of the many reasons for not writing about you, there is one that overpowers my ability to even try:
So often when I am taking you in, studying your face, registering your charms, listening to you talk to yourself, I am already imagining a time when I will be looking back on the moment trying to assemble it in my mind over and over again.
I don’t have a word for that either. Whatever it is, it causes other words to wilt before they make the page. But I’m willing it give it another go..
*chews pen*
department of speculation 
Awww you big softie. I know what you mean. Sometimes a moment happens, like today when my two eldest arrived home from college. The noise level of the four of them all taking together and vying for my attention! Then I saw my eldest and my third standing together. The eldest had her arm around her sisters shoulder and their heads were touching. They were chatting away to the other two as if it was so natural. That moment I watched, photographed and filed away in my minds memory hopefully to always remember. No words could do it justice.
Except not writing about your daughter has led to you writing so beautifully about her.
Ah thanks tric. I wish the feeling didn’t intrude on the moments so much. Between that and my (probably neurotic) commitment to privacy, it’s doubtful I’ll ever write much. I’m trying to take more pictures though. There’s a dose of photos from day one, then it tapered off after the second birthday. Maybe the novelty did wear off. I jest. Your clan seem remarkably close. That’s lovely. I was mightily impressed by them bunking off school to the cinema that time 🙂
I’d love to put this piece in my freshly impressed post this week but I know you like your privacy. What do you think?
Oh no problem, the privilege would be all mine. A fine honour indeed. Tenderness on the block isn’t my real name, I swear. It’s really Mild Disgruntlement. Thanks tric 🙂
Delighted. It’ll be today or tomorrow.
Your big softie moments do make me smile :-)….like that over there, but better. And Tric says it all up there, those moments of deep mother love never stop, no matter how big the children get.
I can well imagine, birdie. I dread her teens. She already requests that I “stop talking” to her when I start fawning over her. She just hasn’t learned to eye-roll yet. Following her around telling her how lovely she is in years to come will send her over the edge altogether. That’s if she hasn’t already diagnosed my many other mental ailments.
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I know what you mean when you say that you are trying to take in her features and all that occurs in a moment’s connection so you can recollect it later.