One Year

My boy is one year old. One.Year.Old. It doesn’t seem like it was really that long ago that he was birthed. It doesn’t seem that long ago that he babbled for the first time, or held his head up, or rolled over.

He talks now. He says, “Cah! Voom voom!” when he sees a car drive by and “agua” when he’s thirsty. He wiggles his head when he’s dancing to music out loud or music in his head. And, not only does he roll, but he ALLIGATOR rolls when you’re trying to change his diaper and the fan is being turned on behind him. To which he yells, “ATS! ATS!” because fan is way too hard to say.

We went to the mountains for his birthday and, while he throrougly enjoyed the toys, the hikes and the hummingbirds flying inches away from his head, he cried when we sang happy birthday. He didn’t like the attention and that made me very glad that we chose to do a small family thing in the mountains instead of a big party at home (and just a little proud that I knew him better than anyone thought I did - score 1 for mama).

He made the following face when touching the cake for the first time:

He is not a fan of sticky. He then proceeded to attempt to knock the offending cake off of his plate with the spoon because there was no way in hell he was touching that mess again.

I am accutely aware of his growing up. I intently listen to every story of all the moms who say, “My son’s 35 now, I can’t believe how quickly it’s gone.” I try to memorize every face, every moment because it’ll never happen again and I don’t want to feel like it all flew by without my paying attention. When he’s a teenager, I want to be able to horrify him with stories about him trying to rip up my shirt in public and trying to nurse on daddy. When he’s grown up, I want to be able to assure him that that poop? That weird, greenish, sticky, stinky, ‘gone 3 days without’ newborn poop is perfectly normal because he had it, and I remember it very clearly. I’m one of those moms.

Happy birthday, Benjaroo. This, I can easily say, has been the best year of my life. Watching you grow is amazing and I am so incredibly blessed to be able to see it all. You’re ever learning and ever changing. You’re moody, you’re testy, you’re stubborn, you’re sweet, you’re silly and you’re incredibly astute. You’re a good baby and I’m sure, before I know it, you’re going to be a good man. I can’t wait to see how you evolve.

Thanks for picking us, kid.

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Gone Too Soon

I did not know her but I did read her. Punk Rock Mommy passed away this morning.

Our thoughts and prayers are with her family.

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To Do List of Death

Okay, so maybe that’s overdoing it a little. It’s the “To Do List Before Your Vagina is Ripped in Twain”. Either way, the sucker has been dramatically cut down as of yesterday. I hate to brag but, seriously, my current feelings of awesomeness know no bounds.

All baby laundry washed in non-baby-harming detergent

All nightwear and onesies for up to 6 months put away in drawers

All outfits up to six months hung in closet on hangers marked with correct sizes

All clothing over 6 months in sealed bags on shelf - separated by size, nightwear vs clothing, pants vs tops, etc

Room painted, dried and nearly outgassed

Crib that will more than likely never be used assembled

Bedding for crib that will more than likely never be used installed

Cloth diapers for up to 30lbs ordered and are set to arrive Monday (As a side note, I should be hired to find deals for people - The cheapest package I found was $170 + $12 shipping. I got everything in that package from the same place + doublers, snappis and cirtrus circles for $150 INCLUDING shipping. I am the cheapy momma mastah!)

Back up newborn disposible diapers purchased and in closet

Diaper bag with going home outfits (in case he’s bigger than we think, I packed 2), receiving blankets, and "just in case we break down on the way home and he poos all over himself" disposible diapers packed — Wipes still needed

Hospital bag still 90% packed

Nursing gowns so as to avoid horrifying my mother when I pop out the boobie at the hospital ordered and set to arrive Monday

Swing and bouncer purchased and set up

Carseat purchased although not yet installed

So I made a deal with him. He’s allowed to come on any one of 3 days this month if he deems it necessary and I will not flog him. 6/10, 6/19 or 6/28. Otherwise, he’s more than welcome anytime beginning 7/1. Well, anytime except 7/4 because I refuse to spend every single birthday at a park watching fireworks with only 1/3 of his friends because they all already had plans for the 4th of July. 7/6 is another no-no day, but there’s only a ridiculous numerological reason behind it so I’ll spare you the details and let you think it’s just because I’m a “crazy hippy.”

Should he decide to come on any of the “not allowed” days, he will be forcibly shoved back in and grounded to the womb until 7/7. The one time where using, “This’ll hurt me more than it will you,” may actually be true.

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