One year of changing diapers. (And we know how well THAT’S been going!)
One year of reading lots and lots and lots of parenting books — with more to come, no doubt.
One year of trying to squeeze back into my “skinny” jeans (Nope, I still can’t do it. I tried again last night).
One year of major growth for everyone in our house.
One year of moral outrage at the cost of (and lack of) quality day care options, the sexualization of little girls and how our societies can’t do better for children.
One year of planning around someone else’s schedule.
One year of being “that person” who pushes baby photos on unsuspecting coworkers and store clerks.
One year of blaming EVERYTHING on teething. Surly baby? She must be teething. Crappy weather? She must be teething.
One year of being “paid” in smiles, laughs and snuggles.
One year of struggling to identify the “best” answer for every conundrum… no matter how big or how small.
One year of singing. (Singing to baby trumps terrible voice.)
One year of either being woken up by someone really NEEDING me, or waking up thinking that that same someone is not breathing because she hasn’t woken me up yet.
One year of taking much shorter showers.
One year of walking around in the world feeling like my heart outside my body. (And of becoming even a bigger sap than I was before.)
I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything. Okay, I might trade a poopy diaper or two, but dang… she’s one and I LOVE THIS!