Tonight I said goodnight to you for the last time as a 1-year-old. It may seem silly to feel so nostalgic. I know nothing changes in the next 12 hours while you sleep. I know you’ll still wake up and greet me at my side of the bed with an adorably cute and tired “mo’ning” at roughly 6:30 am. You’ll still snuggle up next to me on the couch with your blankie and watch “Sesame Street” before breakfast. But for some reason, today it really hit me that you’re growing up just as fast as everyone told me you would. In the blink of an eye, you went from squishy newborn to a walking, talking boy.
So today, instead of frantically cleaning the house in preparation for your birthday celebration, I spent as much time soaking in my 1-year-old as possible. I read you extra stories and listened as you repeated, or attempted to, so many of the words. I watched your brain grow as you figured out how to break, and subsequently fix, your red toy car. I didn’t help you feed yourself soup for lunch because you wanted to do it alone, which made me realize all the months of feeding you bite-by-bite are now gone.
I let you stay up later than usual before your afternoon nap because you just wanted me to sing one more song. I rocked you and sang “Twinkle, Twinkle” three extra times until your eyes closed and your breathing deepened, and then I let you sleep in my arms while I watched your sweet little angel face.
I laughed as you strutted around with pride in your new training underwear, yelling “roar” and pointing at the dinosaurs printed on the front. I cheered with you excitedly when you went potty in the toilet; although I can’t say I’m terribly sad to say goodbye to your diapers.
Outbursts and cries didn’t seem so bad today. I realize that these moments come from frustration as you try to get me to understand what you want to say, but just don’t yet have the words. I tried to be extra patient today. I gave you extra kisses, extra snuggles, extra tickles.
Maybe it’s also partly the fact that your little brother will be joining our family soon that has caused me to focus on your baby days. Or the fact that I stopped calling you “Baby” because you soon won’t be the baby and, well, you’re not one now. Or maybe it’s really just that the past two years truly have flown by that makes me want to savor every moment.
Tomorrow you’ll be 2. Then 3, and 4… And before I know it, you’ll have hairy man legs and my little 1-year-old will only live in my memories (and the thousands of photos and videos I’ve taken of you). So good night my little boy, and know that I plan to do everything in my power to cherish every moment we have for ever and ever.
About Amy Demuth
Born and raised in Sparks, Amy Demuth recently left her full-time position at a public relations firm to be home with her son and take a crack at the whole stay-at-home-mom thing. With a son turning 2 and another on the way, she’s currently preparing for the adventure that will be having a toddler and an infant at home. Amy and her husband love taking the family out to enjoy the outdoors, where you might find them camping or at the lake on any given weekend.