The train of time.

One. Somehow, here we are. And just writing that word, caused a tear to splash on the ALT key. It is not that I am sad that you are one, I am so proud and happy that we made it. But I feel like I am on this train and it is barreling through the weeks and months and I want to yell out, “PLEASE stop! Slow Down! We left my baby at the last stop.” And then I look down and see you standing there, all on your own, smiling at me with your tiny bottom teeth sticking out. I scoop you up and hold you close and you snuggle in- something you luckily still do- and I know I hold two extremely precious things. You of course. My first child, the one who has completely altered what loving someone means. And secondly, the memories we have created together.


We have had some hard ones, mostly happy ones, some scary ones. My favorites include you sleeping on my chest as a tiny newborn, your first non-gassy smile, those wonderful three months I got to spend every second with you while on maternity leave, the pride on your face as you first rolled over, sat and stood. The sad memories of me back at work, missing you like crazy and crying in the office basement until your dad saved me and gave me the option to spend much more time with you and calm my aching heart. The scary time you rolled right off the couch much to my surprise and when you launched backward in the tub and slid all the way under, sucking in water on your way down and I grabbed you out so fast and we both cried.


This next year will be filled with all new adventures, some scary, mostly happy, some sad. But I cannot help but feel a sense of mourning as we approach toddlerhood. Never again will you be a baby. You will never in your life be so dependent on me for everything you do. I will never get to hold your tiny little body in the crook of my arm, or time the rise and fall of my chest to yours as you sleep there.

So even though I want nothing more than to stop this train of time and keep you small forever, instead I will find a window seat and pull you into my lap. We will laugh and cry and fight feelings of frustration, but mostly we will snuggle in and watch the beauty that is our life roll by. I love you so very much my littlest love.

Winter

Here a few I mean't to post of you in the snow






Photo entered into the Paper Mama Challenge:


TA DA!!

Worry.

You got your first fever over Thanksgiving. It was actually the day after and we were staying in the city and you were increasingly fussy throughout the day. By early afternoon, you felt warm to me but we were at a hotel and did not have a thermometer. Everyone kept telling me you were just teething. But I knew.

So your Grandmom went to find a thermometer and you were 103 degrees. She had bought some medicine just in case and when we gave it to you, you seemed to feel much better. But you had this sad look on your face all weekend. At night, I barely slept because I kept getting up to check on you. The fever hung on for four days. On the third night, I woke up to check on you at 2am and I could feel the heat radiating off your little body before I even touched you. Your skin felt like fire. I almost started crying as you snuggled into my chest and let out a pitiful "Am...". I am right here baby I wanted to tell you.

I cooled you down and finally you fell back asleep.

I was talking to your dad about our lives as parents and he said the thing he hates the most is the worry. It is all consuming at times. You are our whole life and we love you more than we thought was possible. We just cannot imagine something happening to you. We will always worry about you. Even when you are 30 and hopefully starting a family of your own. At which point, you might understand these crazy letters.

Your fever is gone and you are back to your normal self. Seems your fever also prompted you to start sleeping in an extra hour this week, which has been nice early bear.

Here is the fever face:





{I have to add this watermark now because of creepy photo stealers. Stop stealing photos, creepers. That is all.}