Where You Can Find Me: January 2019

Sunday, January 20, 2019

It's been a year

since I pushed a whole human being out of my body.

It's ridiculous and shocking how short this year has been.

I remember when it was impossible to put my son down. And now, I can plop him down on the playmat and he'll scoot around, grabbing and banging toys while I blog.

Daddy went to get some hair cutting shears so we can try to trim up buddy's hair. It's not that he absolutely needs a haircut, but I just want to see if I can trim up his little wispy curls. A little YouTube tutorial goes a long way. Maybe mommy can become a barber and we can save a little dough. We'll see.

His birthday is today, but we're having a party for him next Saturday. It's going to be a dinosaur party. I always have the same reservations around each milestone. He's only a year old, he has no concept of presents or parties or cake, why go all out? He's not even going to remember it...but then, the same voice (which more or less belongs to my best friend) that told me to saddown when it came to my wedding and walking in the ceremony for my PhD graduation and participating in the frou frou of a hometown baby shower is the same one telling me that a baby's first birthday is something special that you're going to want to remember.

So, he's going to wear a cute little suspendered outfit with a button down shirt covered in dinosaurs, P and I are going to wear matching t-shirts that say "Daddysaurus of the Birthday Boy" and "Mommysaurus of the Birthday Boy" respectively (fingers crossed they arrive on time!), there will be a dinosaur cake (courtesy of my mom), dinosaur goodie boxes, dinosaur balloons, a dinosaur piñata...we're gonna be dinosaured out.

After we put our son to bed tonight, my husband said, "We kept him alive for a whole year."

I laughed, but was struck with the fact that it was somewhat of an accomplishment. We must be doing something right.

Somehow, I'm also struck with a sense of melancholy. Sometimes I'll be doing something absentmindedly or talking to my husband and I happen to look over at my son and he'll be looking right at me, observing my every move. I look at him and am taken with his overwhelming innocence. Every year that passes represents a bit of the innocence slowly fading away. Every year that passes represents a bit of my ability to protect him slowly diminishing.

I did end up giving him somewhat of a haircut with the brand new shears. Nothing drastic, I just wanted to even him up a little. I took a few curly wisps and put them in a plastic sandwich bag, folded it up and stuck it between the pages of my little baby journal.