To my Baby:
My beautiful, tiny, pink, wrinkly, chicken-legged, newborn baby. You are one. It’s such a strange feeling. It seems like just yesterday when I became your mom, but the last 12 months feel like 12 years worth of events rolled into one.
I have to say that I’ve got a little bit of the rose-colored glasses syndrome going on at our one-year mark. I am SO IN LOVE with you. I love getting you out of bed in the morning. I love picking you up in the afternoon. I love kissing your cheeks. I love making you laugh. I love reading to you. But it’s far from perfect. The messes, the crying, the childcare arrangements, the fact that everything is Such. A. Pain. Sometimes I’m like, “This is NOT what I signed up for!” Sometimes I know you think the same, because I’m not perfect either. But regardless of whatever I thought motherhood would be, this is what I’m doing. What we’re doing. And it’s good, it’s actually really really good now.
It’s all because of you.
You are sweet.
You are my shopping partner.
…my food critic.
…my travel companion.
…my hungry hungry hippo.
Thanks for letting me dress you up.
Thanks for braving the cold.
Thanks for keeping your head up…
…or at least trying.
Thanks for keeping it real.
Thanks for being my buddy.
One year in is such a milestone – and we did it together. What an accomplishment! Happy Birthday to you, little lady. Little toddler. You have challenged me, you have screamed and cried at me, you have excreted every possible bodily fluid onto me, yelled at me for my mistakes, and grinned at me as if to say it’s ok.
This isn’t just a birthday, it’s an anniversary of the beginning of an incredible journey. I love you so.