Hold the phone. It’s been almost a year already. My wonderful timehop keeps showing me pictures of my strict diet regiment of Taco Bell hot sauce and blue icees that I craved while pregnant (hot sauce in an attempt to coax JL out. Blue Icees cause it was June and hot and “he” wanted it). The galas and functions I attended while fully preggo keep coming to mind since the 2016 version of the events are fast approaching, and I am in a panic. My sweet and wonderful little boy is almost one. And I find myself in a panic of sorts. Thankfully I have 2 big events coming up within a week of each other, plus BoozyMommy collaborations coming down the pipeline, as well as trying to maintain my job and house and husband etc. (Did I mention my anniversary is tomorrow?!) So the farthest I have gotten in planning this party is sending out invites (woohoo!) and then having a cart full of stuff on Amazon.
So how do I handle it? Well, naturally I called SarahRo, who made me feel better about my delinquency by informing me she had already finished her shopping and was done ages ago. (Damnit Sarah!) Okay so then I have my mother, who reminded me that JL is turning ONE and we didn’t even really want to do much of a party as it is right? Yes, but if I invite the family over then I’m already at 30 people! Instead, I stress. I plan how much junk I want to buy/store before the party (did I mention I will be gone the weekend before the party so I will be that mom at Target at 8am on Saturday morning of the party). I plan menus. My Pinterest board starts looking like Red and Blue threw up on it. I research the merits of what gifts to get him and how much space I actually have in my home… He’s turning 1.
I mean, I know it’s been a long time coming (a full year in fact). He’s no longer my little baby. I know this very clearly every time I try and pick him up and wonder if I need a back brace. I know it every time he does something that he knows he shouldn’t and he turns to look at me and smirks wondering if I am going to call him on it. I see it every time he asserts his authority over me and challenges what I’ve said. I feel it when he no longer wants to be carried but instead wants to borrow a finger to hold on to so he can walk himself. And I know I am not the only mother to ever feel this way. I’m not the only one to watch her little baby become a little boy. But it’s the first time it’s happening to me, so I’ll take some slack please ok? For the moment, I think my only reprieve from the insanity that is my schedule and planning is the night. No, not because I can open a bottle of wine, but because every night at 7pm, my big boy who is trying to walk away too soon snuggles into my lap and finishes his bottle quickly so that he can have more snuggle time. (We sleep trained him so we don’t linger in there too long at night now). He lays in my arms (spilling over the sides now) and points at things for me to tell him, and then he finds his nook in my chest and makes himself tiny so he can fall asleep on me, and I think- maybe he’s not quite so big after all.