One

To the Love of my life,

In just a few hours the clock will strike midnight and my baby boy will become a toddler.  You're still very bald, so I sense you will be referred to as a "baby" by strangers for a long time.  And of course you'll ALWAYS be my baby.  (Future significant others beware.)

I didn't read far enough into your baby book to see if it was supposed to all be filled out by now, but **SPOILER ALERT**...it's not.  I tried.  Now in an aggressive attempt to avoid filling out your baby book, I decided to start something that the world is in desperate need of; a new Mom blog!  The fact that I had time to write this blog yet somehow didn't have time to fill out the baby book is not lost on me, my son.  Honestly, this could very likely be the only blog entry I write considering I Googled "How to start a blog" just before I typed this.  

It's not just the baby book I didn't do.  I never did those monthly posts of you, either.  You know those ones where you're supposed to have a sticker or a chalkboard or at the very least a stuffed animal for size comparison next to your growing baby?  Yeah, I didn't do those.  Some of your milestones are a little fuzzy, too.  Your first word?  I'm pretty sure it was "Dada", but I was mostly in denial the first 4,000 times you said it so I think I've landed on "Hi" or maybe it was "Hey"?  It was definitely a salutation and it most definitely was not "Mama" despite my numerous attempts to will it out of you.  When did you first sit up?  I can be certain it was after birth and before you started walking.  Oh!  I do know when you took your first step because it was on Dada's birthday (remember that aforementioned guy you are obsessed with) and I knew the flip-flops I got him would suddenly pale in comparison.  Your first tooth came in somewhere around the time I was certain you had developed an allergy to sleep and "he definitely just bit me!"  I am not planning you a Pinterest worthy party.  It's not even a Facebook worthy party, to be honest.  The central themes we've narrowed it down to (your party is in 5 days) are "Is Coors Light Fancy Enough for Our Grown Up Friends" and "Should We Just Get Some Cardboard Boxes as Party Favors?"  Nothing about that last sentence is actually in jest.  

I know what you're thinking.  Wow, Mom.  What DID you do this year?  I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU!!!  WHY ARE YOU BEING SO UNGRATEFUL!?  

Well, I loved you.  I loved you more than my mid-level vocabulary can articulate.

I held you in my arms for the first time and ugly cried.  Somehow you already knew just how to break the tension because at that moment you decided to suck on my nose and suddenly I was laughing.  At that point it was ugly laughing because it had been a LONG day.  

I experienced "whisper fighting" for the first time.  Whisper fighting happens when one parent spends a long time rocking a baby to sleep then as they slowly and quietly slip away, the other parent makes a noise that could jeopardize this hard-earned slumber.  While naturally wanting to scream at the perpetrator, the level-headed parent knows better and keeps the berating to a whisper.  A lot of times the inciting incident would be when someone's ankles would crack and pop.  And by someone, I mean Dada.

I watched you sleep...a creepy amount of times.  It is still my favorite thing to do and I can't imagine a time when it won't be.  (Count that as a second warning to future sig others.)  

I kissed you no less than 3,284,653 times.  

I cried.  So much.  Maybe more than you did this last year.  I cried when I read "On the Night You Were Born"...two months before you were born.  I cried when the doctors were worried about your little heartbeat.  I cried when they pricked your foot.  I cried when I saw you look at your Dada so adoringly.  I cried when your umbilical cord stump fell off and then I cried again when I threw it away because it felt so wrong but so right to do that.  I cried when I had to cut your nails.  I cried when I fed you real food for the first time.  I cried when you had your first stomach bug and projectile vomited all over us both (then I called 911 and got 7 firefighters to come over).  I cried when I couldn't stop your crying.  I cried when we sat in LA traffic together (but to be fair I did that before you were born).  I cried when I put your newborn clothes away.  I cried when you slept in your crib for the first time.  I cried when I sat down to write this blog.  If I listed every time I cried in your first year, well I'd definitely start crying. 

I researched.  And worried.  And researched.  And worried.  And researched.  And...these two will never stop.  

I experienced tremendous loss.  Your Pop-Pop, my very own Dada, passed away when you were only two weeks old.  In the middle of the night you let out a cry I had never heard you make before or since, and I believe it to be the exact moment he left this Earth.  You knew.  Perhaps he came through to hold you just once before he left?  I like to think so.  When I got the devastating news a few hours later and held you in my arms, you graciously let my tears fall on you and I swear you hugged me back.

I nursed you every day for 12 months.  I know you won't be grossed out when you read this because by then we'll have normalized breastfeeding as a society and you'll be proud that we went through this amazing journey together.  RIGHT?!  

I melted further into my puddle of milk, spit-up and tears when you smiled at me for the first time.  It's simply the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen.  Each tooth that comes in broadens that smile even more and it makes me wonder if anyone's ever died from being too happy.

I laughed so much and more genuinely than I ever have in my life.  Then one day you started laughing too and it was as if my sense of hearing had been useless until that day.  You have no idea the ego boost this comedian mom of yours gets from hearing you laugh.  The day I bomb for you will probably be the day I quit comedy.

I let you go.  This probably sounds a little (nay, very) dramatic considering you are turning 1 and not 18, but on this very emotional day (at this point in my writing it is your actual birthday now) just go with it.  I let go of your tiny hands when you actually walked away from me for the first time.  I've watched in amazement while you have interactions with other humans (and dogs) and light up strangers' eyes.  You remind me of your Pop-Pop in that way.  You have actual interests, now, and an agenda that has nothing to do with your parents.  You are so smart, so funny, so sensitive, so kind and you have such a thirst for life.  And you're only a year old!  (Okay that sentence made me cry.)

Happy 1st Birthday, sweet boy.