Baby's growing up


I now have a 1 year-old! Funny—1 seemed a lot older on my first child than my fourth. Omara is still very much a baby in some ways. I look forward to no diapers, to her feeding herself, getting herself dressed, not needing to be held all day long. But then again, we’re headed in the right direction! She’s chattering non-stop. Not much is coherent, but at this rate she’ll be talking before we can understand Isaac! She’s taken 4 steps, though she still prefers the crawl. And she’s just as cute as she ca n be.

It’s been such an exhausting last month, I spent too many days last week thinking how I should plan a party and then knowing that I didn’t have the energy for it, and then feeling like a terrible mom as I wondered how easy it would be to fake some pictures so she wouldn’t know she never got a 1-year party! But Friday morning a co-worker texted us all that she felt like having a get-together at their house “just for the fun of it.” I know it was God, protecting my heart from more guilt and Omara from a faked scrapbook page!!! I whipped up a chocolate fudge cake (that was delicious, by the way!) and made her a Smash cake. See, that’s another thing I’ve learned from my Southern Southern Baptist friends. A 1-year old needs a smash cake, not just a slice of the regular cake like us Northerners do! We got to sing to her and watch her, indeed, smash her cake and cover herself from head to foot in chocolate fudge frosting, white cream filling, with bits of crumbs stuck everywhere. It was adorable, and the photos are great. I’ll try to attach one as soon as I can. Then she put on the real show, flirting with Uncle Jeff, talking to us all, laughing at herself, and holding up 1 finger as if announcing to anyone who might have missed it that she is now, in fact, 1 year old.

My baby is slowly growing up, but I don’t have any of that sad nostalgia over it. I love my kids, don’t get me wrong. I love them fiercely, I am just excited that they’re growing up. The “baby stage” is sweet, and I love the cuddles, but with each kid it gets harder, and I’ve found 4 to have pushed me to my max. Now I’m ready to play board games without having to fish the Sorry pieces out of someone’s mouth. Ready to go on a walk without carrying one of them. Ready to hang out with them instead of just taking care of everyone. I keep hearing that it’ll be here before I know it and then I’ll miss them being younger. Right now, up to my elbows in dirty diapers and crying babies who can’t talk, I say “Bring it on!”

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