Almost One… And Where Did I Go?

Hey! I bet you were all super worried that I disappeared for good. No? Hmmmm. Well, apparently I didn’t. I’m still here. Still alive. I’ve just been… uninspired. I don’t know what to write. And then I do know what to write, but I don’t know when to write it. And then I do know when to write it and I just don’t remember how. Does that sound weird? It is. Like I said in my About section; I’ll write when I want, if I want, when I have something to say. I never said I had important things to say. Anyway…

Rose turns one on Saturday. ONE! For those of you that aren’t parents, let me explain what this means; it means she is totally grown up. She is a big girl. She is no longer my baby. She talks (well, says a few words), she walks (a few feet), and she knows what she wants, when she wants it, and how to get it. The last few days I’ve been reflecting on the past year. I’ve shed a few tears over the passage of time, as I remember the early days when she couldn’t say ‘that,’ when I had no idea what she wanted, but had to figure it out. I think about the days when I had a huge belly. The mornings I woke, had contractions for an hour, and wondered if that would be the day. And then I remember the nights I fell asleep, realizing that day wasn’t her day. And then neither was the next day. Or the day after that. And then, suddenly, if was her day. And it was my day. It was our day. My belly, though far from flat, was no longer her home. My arms were where she belonged. I no longer wondered what her eyes would look like. I didn’t have to question whether she would look like me (she didn’t- to this day she’s her Daddy’s finest work). That day. The day she became mine, she made me something I thought I understood, but really, I had no idea; she made me a Mom. She changed my life. I look at her in awe these days; she’s becoming an individual. I no longer see a baby when I see her. I see my independent, beautiful, silly, willful daughter. I see those same big brown eyes that stared up at me the evening of March 2, 2012. The eyes I looked into that night, the eyes of the baby that I told; “I don’t know what I’m doing, but we’ll figure it out together.” Truer words have never been exchanged between us. Everyday we wake up, everyday is different, and everyday I have no idea what I’m doing, but we figure it out together.

And now… now it is time for us to go. To do laundry. To clean the bathrooms. To read books. To dance. To play with her baby doll. To find things in the carpet. To kiss. To screech. To laugh. To cry. Whatever we do these days, we do together. And we figure it all out.

 

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