Here we are. One year later. I’m no longer a new mom with a new baby. (I need to change my description over there on the side.) Now I’m just a mom with a 1 year old.
We survived her first birthday. It was a great celebration and I’m proud to say that I didn’t need that tranquilizer gun after all. I made it through the party without shedding a single tear. Maybe it’s because our whole family was cooped up inside our house due to inclement weather and it was too packed and loud to even think straight or become emotional.
It was a great party nonetheless. She smeared a beard of hot pink frosting all over her face and even managed to use some as eyeshadow before I called it quits and hosed her off. Of course she was beyond exhausted from not having a normal nap that morning. Naturally. She must have known she’d be called on to perform and didn’t want me to forget who exactly was in charge.
So now I’m left wondering where to go from here. It’s not like I have it all figured out — far from that — but I’m entering a new parenting phase and I hadn’t given it much thought yet. I guess that’s my problem though. If I think about all of this, I psych myself out and question everything I do or get overwhelmed thinking about her getting her license and talking to boys. I need to just go with the flow and look back in seventeen years and wonder how I survived it all.
It feels like I’m graduating out of the title of new mummy and settling in to being just Mom or Mum. (Even though I refer to myself as neither to her.) I wonder if I’ll feel like this with each passing year, getting a little more used to being a parent with each birthday. Or maybe I’ll always be surprised that I’m the boss calling the shots…at least until we reach those Terrible Twos. Aaagh.
Today was your first birthday! I don’t know how it happened because I swear the last thing I remember was…what was the last thing I remember? Who knows! The past twelve months have been a complete blur. But a blur of love, countless hours of laughter, and too much happiness.
You’re officially a big girl now. And you look the part. You’ve lost your baby face and you’re sprouting more hair (even though you barely have enough for a bow — sorry you get that from me). You’re so close to taking those first steps into toddler territory. You’ve taken a couple half steps here and there which is totally exhilarating, but you’re just not ready yet. And that’s fine. No need to rush everything!
To celebrate your first year on Earth, Daddy played hookey from work and we took you to the zoo. It was so much fun. You go absolutely wild over the animals. We fed a giraffe and although you didn’t get to pet it, you were thrilled to be so close to it. As we were driving home and you were in the backseat passed out and mouth-breathing, I had this feeling that I didn’t do enough for your birthday. I had this urge that I needed to do something really spectacular like set off fireworks or throw a parade, but then Daddy reminded me that you weren’t even aware that it was your birthday and I was doing a great job. I realized he was right and thought that spending the day together making memories is something that will last a lot longer than fancy fireworks.
After the zoo, we came home and gave you a cupcake with pink sprinkles and homemade frosting. You stuffed it right in your mouth like we knew you would. You are the world’s best eater and this was your first real taste of something sweet. We’re sure we’ve ruined you and you will demand cupcakes for every meal. But good luck with that. You’ll just have to watch us enjoy them while you nibble on veggies. Ha-Ha!
The dogs opened your presents for you and played with your toys more than you did. You were perfectly happy playing with the paper and cardboard from the boxes. So predictable. Now you’re sound asleep dreaming of cupcakes and giraffes and already working on getting older.
I hope you had the best 1st birthday imaginable because you’ve made my life happy beyond comprehension! I love you oodles!
Happy 12 months my love.
Of course I’m not complaining that my daughter actually wants to spend every waking minute attached to my hip…soon she’ll be alerted to my momness and want nothing to do with me. But for now she’s a Level 5 Clinger. A term usually reserved for crazy, obsessive hose beasts who permanently attach themselves to their man like a barnacle on a boat. However, I’m using this term lovingly for my little girl who clings to me like a baby squirrel monkey on its mother’s back.
Separation anxiety is rearing its nasty head. There are times when I can’t even walk away from her for 5 seconds to put something in the trash without a screaming, teary meltdown. Mind you, I’m still within eyesight, talking to her the whole time so there’s no excuse for her end-of-the-world reaction. It’s not like I’ve left her starving, wearing nothing but a diaper out in the freezing cold snow. Now that would warrant such a meltdown.
Maybe it’s a bad thing I’m with her so much? Every waking minute we’re together and it’s been that way from day one. I’ve left her with grandparents, even a couple overnight watches, but the majority of the time it’s just the two of us. Daddy’s at work all day so it’s only natural there are times she wants my arms instead of his (which always makes me feel guilty but slightly smug — what can I say we’re both very competitive). Plus, what parent doesn’t get a bit of satisfaction when they’re greeted with tiny outstretched arms?
I worry about the future. What if she’s still a Clinger when she gets older and starts school? I doubt her teachers will let me sit in the back of the classroom and hold her while she learns her times tables or let me hold her hand while she gives a report on the Native Americans.
Deep down I know it’s not bad that we spend so much time together (it’s a great thing I’m lucky to have) and I know she won’t be a Clinger her whole life. Just when I want her to cling a little tighter she’ll be spreading her wings, ready to leave me in the dust..unless I get those wings clipped!
I have exactly one week left until my daughter turns one…let the crying ensue.
It seems so surreal. For the longest time it was strange to think I’d actually given birth, became a mom, and had a daughter of my own. (Some days it still feels surreal!) And now I have to wrap my head around the concept that she’s not really a baby anymore but on her way to becoming a toddler. Waah, it’s not fair.
My friends try to tell me that it’s an exciting time, not a sad time. But it is sad. Yes, I love all the new things she’s doing and ways she’s growing and changing, but I’ll never have my cuddly little baby back. Not to mention that she’ll be a teenager before I blink. I know I shouldn’t be complaining — I’ve had the opportunity to spend a lot more time with her than most moms get because they have real jobs in the real world, but I want more time. I look at pictures of her from a few months ago and I hardly remember her chubby cheeks and roly-poly body. The way she cooed or flailed her arms around as if they weren’t her own.
It’s such a weird thing to be a parent. One minute you’re laughing hysterically filled to the brim with joy and the next you’re bawling your eyes out for no apparent reason. Just your everyday schizo.
I’m going to try my hardest not to act like a complete nutcase on her birthday. I’m excited for the huge milestone, but I might need to be shot in the ass with a tranquilizer dart especially once the singing starts.
It seems as if my resolution was never to blog again, but alas, here I am typing away…finally.
For the record I don’t have a New Year’s resolution. When you don’t bother to celebrate the occasion, you don’t really give a crap about its traditions. Although I could say that I’ll stop cursing, eating junk food, and complaining but that would last a whopping ten seconds. So I’ll spare us all the drama.
It doesn’t feel like the new year has started, probably because I didn’t actually do any celebrating or ringing in of 2012. The hubby and I were in bed by 10:00. We knew what would happen if we stayed up late…we’d want to jump off a cliff in the morning when our daughter didn’t get the memo to sleep in until 9. So we celebrated the east coast New Year’s and called it a night. Just one more reminder that we’re old now (not that we need any more).
We didn’t feel like unnecessarily torturing ourselves just to say that we welcomed the beginning of a new year with Ryan Seacrest and Justin Beiber. That’s not a good way to start any year.
I used to be a night owl, but the baby quickly cured me of that. When I was a youngin’, I was always one of the last to fall asleep at our slumber parties. You know what happened to the girl who fell asleep first — bra got put in the freezer. (Sorry S). I was never going to let that happen to me. It’s funny to think that we were wearing bras and still having sleepovers…
I’m completely happy to be in bed early now. In fact, the earlier the better.
When I was young, it felt like I was getting away with something by staying up late, watching movies, and gossiping till the wee hours. It’s that same feeling that’s got me putting on my pjs and climbing into bed before 9 o’clock rolls around. Never thought I’d live to see that day.