This weekend we celebrated Charlie's first birthday. Our closest family, a few pizzas, and a gorgeous star-studded cake (and a smasher cake, too!) made by Charlie's Aunt Nini. All day long I found myself glancing at the clock, trying to remember what was happening exactly one year ago–now I was having mild contractions, now I was having horrible contractions, now I was crying through my contractions, now you were born, now you were two hours, six hours, ten hours old.
And now you are one year old. My sweet Charlie-Barley. One year.
I'm your mama, Charlie. And out of the small circle of people you have gotten to know, I would guess that I just might know you best. After all–with the exception of an hour or two, here and there–I've been with you these 365 days. This year of firsts. First laugh, first cry. First nursing (still nursing). First food ("Mama, I'll eat a whole loaf of bread before I eat that fruit or vegetable, thank you very much.") First sling ride. First outings–the park, the library, the duck pond. Aunt Nini's and Grandpa George's and Uncle Aaron's. First rain, first snow, first flower. First roll, first scoot, and just this month, first crawl. First kisses and hugs. First I love you's. I was here.
I'm still not sure who you are just yet. I'm watching and patiently waiting. But here are a few things I know to be true about you:
When you were this tiny, you liked to sleep. Now? Not so much.
You adore your brother.
Your brother adores you.
You are a gentle soul who likes to explore, play, mimic, and laugh. And you seem to like my quilts.
You'll jump out of my arms and into daddy's for bathtime.
You are lovable, laid-back, and a little shy. Like your daddy. May be too darn cute for your own good. Also like your daddy.
Happy first birthday, my little love. I am so glad you have been with us this past year. Our world has only gotten better and brighter with you in it.
On to year two.