My Mom was reminding me how a year ago we were sure this baby would never --never!-- come out and join us.
And here he is.
Walking. Playing with his brothers. Crying at my legs to be picked up. All the time.
I'm still not sure just what we'll do for his birthday. I'd like to invite some friends and have cake and a little party. I know he couldn't care less, but I think first birthdays are so fun, and important for the mama. So I wanna have a party.
But Nathan and Jonah are spending this week in Minnesota, visiting Nathan's parents without us, and we're not sure what day they're coming back. We figured that Evan and Andrew wouldn't be much help up there, and nor would I with the awful back ache I've had lately. As it turned out, I spent the first day Nathan was gone on the couch sick all day.
I was a little worried about how I would manage the kids, animals, woodstove, and other chores by myself with these afflictions (and so was Nathan-- he almost didn't go, but he really had to and I twisted his arm), but so far it's been fine. My house is deteriorating with me in survival mode, but that's nothing new. I think the little guys actually do better with me laying around on the couch. Maybe I should do it more often. That way I'm always available for them to slam their heads into my belly and whine for a few minutes whenever they want to.
Don't you think life would be better if you could just lean on someone soft and whine when life isn't going your way (approximately every 2-10 minutes)?
So, instead of working on all the tasks piling up on me (blah, blah, blah, you've heard it all from me before), I sat on the porch for a while yesterday and watched my babies play.
Andrew started walking much earlier than the other boys did. He's quite a pro now, and not even a year old yet.
I find it so entertaining to watch such a tiny person walking around. He's a baby! He looks like a baby, but there he is, tottering around like a funny little man.
So my little brownish-eyed boy will turn one this week, with or without a party, with or without his Daddy present. He won't even know a thing about it, but his mama will. Maybe we'll have a party on Sunday instead.
I'm not the sort of mama to shed tears about "my baby growing up" (at least not now). Rather, my heart bursts with joy at watching it.