This week, my sweet little man turned one. We threw him a party, gave him some presents, helped him open a gazillion presents that other people gave him. I made him some (relatively) healthy cupcakes, which he LOVED, and there was merriment all around.
And I only cried a little bit.
This has been a very emotional week for me, and not only because my baby turned one. But everything is related to that monumental event. My husband and I had a difficult discussion about whether and when to stop preventing the possibility of a second child (and the consensus was: not yet). I took a big step toward day weaning on days when we are apart, by quitting pumping at work. I started looking into switching to a part time schedule, which has implications for our income and for my career, but also for my sanity. And my BABY TURNED ONE.
Oh I guess I mentioned that already.
I am feeling very sentimental, but I don’t think I have it in me to do one of those posts telling my little boy how much I love him and how much he’s changed. Though of course, both of those things are definitely true. I look back at photos of him as a newborn and have to squint my eyes and tilt my head to see the resemblance to this cheeky little monkey that is climbing all over everyone and everything.
But right now, all I want to do is drink him in, every moment of his adorableness. I don’t want to miss a second if I can avoid it. I love watching him grow and change, and I want to be as present as I possibly can.
So happy birthday, baby boy. May the second year of your life be even more incredible and enjoyable for all of us than the first.