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One year ago today

One year ago, I met a boy. He has taken over much of my life in this past year. But that’s not his fault. He had to rely on me for just about everything. It’s just the way of things.

Today, we celebrate the birth of our son, the great Boobah. He has changed so much over the past year. It really is amazing how fast the milestones fly at you. I can’t even keep up. But I love it.

Being a mom is hard. It’s getting up and caring for your child even when you’re feeling under the weather and they are fine. It’s pulling yourself out of bed at 5 when you really want to sleep until 7. Or 10. It’s making sure they’re fed before you are, because you can wait a 1/2 hour to eat, but your child doesn’t yet understand how to wait. It’s wiping tears, runny noses, kissing bruises, padding corners, washing bottles, and changing a heck of a lot of diapers.

It’s a freaking tough job. I do love it. Even as I wish for just a little time to myself to read, take a bath, take a nap, catch up on email, watch a little TV, or browse a shop. Even as I drag myself out of bed at 3 am to find a lost binkie. And especially when I get soaked from bathtub splashing.

Deep down, I always hoped I would get to be a mom. My parents are the most wonderful examples of love and caring, and I wanted to pass that along. I hoped that there would be someone to look at all of the pictures and hear all of the stories and just want to know where we came from. And a bit of what our lives were like. I want to leave a mark. We do that, in some small way, through our children.

But I never knew if I would get the chance. Hey, life happens and sometimes that chance can pass us by. I was lucky, though. It didn’t pass by. And here we are. My son is one year old. We survived with him only getting dropped on his head once! Or was it twice? (Oh, hai, CPS – just kidding!)

I’m still trying to find a way to balance being a mom with still being me. I’ve always found it easier to worry about everyone else ahead of myself. Maybe I’ll figure it out. Maybe it’ll continue to be a battle. Who knows?

I love that little guy of mine. And while I’m in no hurry for him to get bigger, I’m really looking forward to the adventures we’ll share.

‘MA!’ means come get me now woman

Our son’s crib is in our room. Not just because I want him close so I don’t have to stumble through the house when he cries, but out of necessity. We live in a one bedroom place, so he’s either in our room or the middle of the living room. Not a lot of choices.

We arranged things to where he’s on my side of the bed, at a slight angle. Our bedroom is a jungle of furniture: bed, dressers, desk, sidetable, baby bed. Yeah, it’s a lot of stuff. I have a nightstand next to me, and his crib is on the other side.

Did I mention the kid can now stand up and reach outside of the crib? And that the nearest thing is my nightstand? Did I also mention said nightstand is now CLEAR? Um, yeah.

This morning, he stood in his crib, looking around, babbling, and waiting for his dear, precious mother to WAKE THE HECK UP ALREADY. He’ll usually entertain himself for a bit before he decides he needs a new diaper.

And today, he woke me up by yelling at me. Ma! Momomom. Ma! I rolled over and looked at him and was greeted with a most adorable and huge grin. How could I resist that? The crying? Eh, roll over and go back to sleep. But “ma” and a smile? Up in an instant.

He is crawling so fast now. Zips everywhere. We have a couple of laundry baskets as barriers between the living room and kitchen and barring the hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. He can’t move them YET, but he can stand up and hold on to them, which he loves to do. And he can finally sit back down from standing, which results in a lot less crying and frustration. From both of us. Also, he can move sideways while holding on to things. The coffee table, the couch, the rocking chair. It’s all so fast.

And last night? He got off of the couch. BY HIMSELF.

He was sitting with daddy, decided he wanted down, turned around, and put his legs off of the couch. We watched as he slowly lowered himself down. We cheered him a bit and then he took off. Wow.

Tomorrow is his first birthday. Last year at this time, well, it’s a blur. I was at the hospital, in labor. I had pitocin, and I believe they’d already put in the epidural as well. I don’t even remember when my water broke, but I know I was lying in bed and felt it happen. Did I mention I went to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving, in the morning, to get monitored and THEY KEPT ME? And I didn’t get to leave until almost a week later.

I guess I never really told the whole birth story. I may just have to do that in honor of the kiddo’s first year here. And it will be told often, because mommy didn’t get to have Thanksgiving (actually, I didn’t get to eat for almost 30 hours and I was begging for some food) thanks to a certain little rug rat.

So, maybe some more tomorrow, after we go to Balboa Park. I think we’ll forgo chocolate cake for some brownies or something like that. Haven’t decided yet. No party, just hanging with the boys. I can’t wait.