Next week Grady will turn one, and that will be the end of babies in my house. I’ll have two rambunctious toddlers and a fuzzy nostalgia for the smell of sticky sweet formula powder, giving baths in the kitchen sink, and the blue glow of late-night TV that accompanied the zillionth 3:00 am feeding.
These two years, the years in which I was often told, “you’re braver than I am,” have zoomed by. We knew they would be challenging, and at times they really were. I look back now and don’t know how we did it. All I have to say is thank God for family! We are very, very lucky and grateful, and there has been a lot of fun and love in these years.
I will go to bed tonight feeling confident that I can sleep until morning. I can accomplish this sleep without a pack and play in my room. And in the morning, I will put milk into sippy cups instead of bottles. It feels good, like we have crossed the finish line. (Although I’ll admit that I teared up a little when buying Grady’s number 1 birthday candle.)
I know a few folks who are about to embark on the new baby lifestyle, and I wish them a warm and easy entrance into their new life. It’s a unique and strange journey. The beginning is all about keeping those tiny people alive and healthy. A year later you have a bigger tiny person who can smile and maybe talk a little, toddle a little, and spit sweet potatoes like a lumberjack. It’s the accomplishment of which I am most proud.
On Friday we will say happy birthday. We can also say “We did it!”