She used to sleep swaddled tightly, in a soft cocoon. Now she sleeps sideways, diagonal, upside down. Stretched out and twisted, constantly wiggling and flopping around. Her head ends up near Jon and her mini puffy feet kick me in the head.
She used to roll sweetly from her tummy to her back, and back to her tummy. Blinking those huge chocolate eyes and soaking in the world from her quilt. Now she crawls and stands and cruises. I know that any moment babygirl will start to walk, and when she does I will be overjoyed. I will proudly celebrate her success, and the accomplishment she's been working so hard toward. But there is a little part of me that is hoping she takes her time. A little part that is clinging dearly to the sweet little crawling baby. A tiny little part of me that feels like those first steps signal the beginning of toddler-hood and the closure of her baby-ness. And that part of me is constantly pondering "Where did my baby go?"
My baby is one year old.
Last week we celebrated her first birthday. All day long Jon and I enthusiastically wished her "Happy Birthday!". I'm sure she didn't entirely understand what all the commotion was about, but she seemed to bask in the attention none the less.
We baked a cake, and we lit a candle, and we sang to the sweet birthday girl like there was no tomorrow. Jon and I both fake blew at the candle to teach her how to blow it out herself, until I accidentally fake blew it out. Milani didn't mind. Her mini fingers swiped a handful of chocolate icing, and she slowly savored bite after bite of her cake.
Then, of course, came the presents. Her favorites were her musical instruments and shopping cart. Girlfriend can bang out a sick beat, and shake the maracas like nobody's business. She did laps with the shopping cart, and as one who always does things in her own style, with a little Lani-flair, the shopping cart went around sideways.
And last weekend we gathered with family and friends at the park for Milani's first birthday party.
We stoked up the charcoal until burgers and dogs sizzled, and enjoyed bright watermelon as the juice dripped down to our elbows.
And as one who always does things in my own forgetful style, with a little Eena-flair, I forgot the birthday candle. Ariana raced to the rescue so we could sing with a pink candle atop a pink ice cream cone cupcake. We had a lot of great helpers to blow out the candle, and a lot of great helpers eager to unwrap the gifts.
We saw rain, and sun, and a little sun-shower, but the air was warm and the day was perfect. I even caught a glimpse of a rainbow in the evening sky. I couldn't have planned it better.
My baby is one year old.
Milani may no longer be that tiny little newborn baby, but she growing ever more beautiful and strong, confident and funny. She is just as perfect today as she was the moment I first saw her, and there's no greater pleasure than watching her grow, and thrive, and blossom. I fondly remember the tiny baby, and anticipate the joys to come, while I embrace every moment of our precious time together today.
She used to roll sweetly from her tummy to her back, and back to her tummy. Blinking those huge chocolate eyes and soaking in the world from her quilt. Now she crawls and stands and cruises. I know that any moment babygirl will start to walk, and when she does I will be overjoyed. I will proudly celebrate her success, and the accomplishment she's been working so hard toward. But there is a little part of me that is hoping she takes her time. A little part that is clinging dearly to the sweet little crawling baby. A tiny little part of me that feels like those first steps signal the beginning of toddler-hood and the closure of her baby-ness. And that part of me is constantly pondering "Where did my baby go?"
My baby is one year old.
Last week we celebrated her first birthday. All day long Jon and I enthusiastically wished her "Happy Birthday!". I'm sure she didn't entirely understand what all the commotion was about, but she seemed to bask in the attention none the less.
We baked a cake, and we lit a candle, and we sang to the sweet birthday girl like there was no tomorrow. Jon and I both fake blew at the candle to teach her how to blow it out herself, until I accidentally fake blew it out. Milani didn't mind. Her mini fingers swiped a handful of chocolate icing, and she slowly savored bite after bite of her cake.
Milani may no longer be that tiny little newborn baby, but she growing ever more beautiful and strong, confident and funny. She is just as perfect today as she was the moment I first saw her, and there's no greater pleasure than watching her grow, and thrive, and blossom. I fondly remember the tiny baby, and anticipate the joys to come, while I embrace every moment of our precious time together today.
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I just realized that I haven't been receiving, or been able to view any comments left on my posts. Unfortunately any comment left before Friday May 20 I never got to read, and can't figure out how to recover them. The problem should be fixed from here forward, but I'm bummed I missed those comments. If you feel like re-posting any comments you left, I'd love to read them. If not, that's all good too. So Sorry. Thanks for reading!!