September 14, 2011
Oh Audrey. I don’t even know where to start.
You are one part giggles and squeals, one part drool (okay, lately two parts drool, you have EIGHT TEETH NOW!), one part adorable baby tantrum, about twelve parts ridiculous leg rolls, one part sweet, slobbery kisses, one part piggy eater, and a million parts beautiful.
Your birth was probably the most mellow thing about you. It started with some weird chest pains in the morning, but really things could not have gone more smoothly. While we were waiting for the doctor to come in so I could start pushing, your daddy said he didn’t think there had ever been a more relaxed woman about to birth a human. The whole thing was surreal and laid back: steady contractions for a few hours, sitting on the birthing ball watching Friday Night Lights on the tv. An epidural after things got intense, a nap, then a few pushes… and you were here, healthy and beautiful and ready to go!
There were moments this year when I didn’t know how I would survive it. Not only was I learning how to be a parent two humans (Hardest. Adjustment. Ever.) but I was learning how to be a parent to you. And… my dear, crazy, wild baby, you were not always easy on me. I had some very Un-Proud Moments that I would like to forget, but I doubt I ever will. But that’s all part of the parenting thing, raising and taking care of a baby. Tears and frustration and love and giggles and exhaustion and OMGWHYAREYOUNOTSLEEPING.
Most of your drama centered around the reflux we figured out when you were three months old. (Let’s just stop for a moment and imagine going back in time to Me When Audrey Was A Month Old and KICK THAT LADY FOR NOT REALIZING IT AND FIXING IT THEN. Would have saved us all so much misery. Sigh.) But once we got your reflux under control, things got a lot easier, thank goodness. You were finally a happy baby, and that made US so incredibly happy.
That being said: YOU ARE STILL A HANDFUL. You have taken everything we thought we knew about parenting a mobile infant and threw it all out the window. PROBABLY BECAUSE YOU CLIMBED UP THERE WITHOUT PERMISSION, YOUNG LADY. Get down! Now!… Don’t just GRIN AT ME LIKE THAT! GET DOWN BEFORE YOU BREAK YOUR HEAD.
Seriously though. You are ridiculously active. You don’t sit still and play- you are in MOTION, ALL THE TIME. And you have no fear. You are infinitely curious about everything you see- including your sister’s toys and let me tell you how much she loves THAT. You pay special attention each morning to whether or not I closed the baby gate at the bottom of the steps before I put you down on the floor, and if it’s still open, YOU ARE GONE. You want up those steps so badly. Or so says the body-flinging tantrum you have when I close the gate.
(Ask your sister how well tantrums work in this house.)
I love you so so much. I worried a little bit (like most moms do, I suppose) that it would be impossible to love anyone as much as I love your sister. I don’t know what I was thinking. I love you both more than you will ever know. It’s true that a mama’s heart has enough room for all of her babies.
Right now you are just starting to show your personality and how you might be as a toddler, as a preschooler… and I have never been more excited about learning about somebody in my whole entire life. The year coming up is my favorite age without a doubt (don’t tell Maggie, but Age Three and the first part of Age Four? Weren’t her best. heh.) I cannot WAIT to hear you talk and watch you running and chasing your sister and I want to see what your hair will be like and what your favorite color will be and will you be into princesses and dresses like Maggie is or will you be less girly (because OMG SHE IS SO GIRLY AND I LOVE IT) and and and…
I feel like the first year is a test. We passed. And now the real fun begins.
Happy birthday, Chubster.