I really did not think I would give a shit when my kid turned 1. I mean, yay tomorrow you’re 1 Gabe! I thought that’s how I would feel. Every month has been a milestone, so what is 1 more?
That’s the first morning home from the hospital. I’m writing on the computer in front of me and he is sleeping in my lap. Right after I took this photo he pooped all over me and our sheets.
So now that he is turning 1 tomorrow, why am I crying right now? I am happy we didn’t kill him. I am happy he can play with me and doesn’t only sleep and eat and poop. I am happy that he took 3 steps this week. I am happy that I see playgrounds and coloring in our future. I am happy.
But I am also sad. I have all the feels.
And it’s dumb because they thrive and that’s the whole point of this. They thrive and grow and sprout little minds with little independent thoughts and then they stand up on their own 2 feet and walk out the door. They wave and sometimes they call and they have their own lives and that’s what we’re doing here. That’s what makes me a good mom; the ability that Gabe can leave and succeed and thrive somewhere else.
But the baby part. The baby part is so short.
And thank god it is so short.
But it is sometimes too short. Too short was the time of him curled up like a little tree frog on my chest. Too short is the time of breast feeding (Just short enough. Too short. Thank god that’s over. But sometimes I miss it.)
His little peely face and his big, big eyes. His sad faces. His eating sounds. His loud sleeping sounds.
Next week I’ll be celebrating his first year. But for just a minute I’m going to be sad. I’m going to let the part where he really isn’t that baby anymore wash over me. I’m going to be THAT mom for just a minute, because part of this is saying goodbye.
Bye baby Gabe! You’re not so much a baby anymore. Tomorrow you turn 1! But, just because… for old times sake… I’m going to leave this right here.