It’s amazing how you’ve changed in one year. All the things you do now that you didn’t then, and all the things that you’re learning daily. You’re so big, but you’re still my baby.
You can sleep most of the night in your own bed in our room, sometimes in really long chunks.
But you still like to come into our bed for the last couple hours of the morning and plant your back against my tummy and your feet against your daddy’s chest. You snug yourself in so tightly under my arm that it goes to sleep and that’s where you sleep most soundly.
You’ll play for many minutes at a time without needing me to be right next to you. But if you spot me trying to do something you want to be on my lap or on my project and right in the middle of everything.
You have adopted this affronted and mortally insulted look that you give us if your toys don’t cooperate or you sit down unexpectedly. I don’t know where you got it, but it’s hilarious. You’re picking up on that, and usually drop it to smile at us when we can’t help but laugh. It’s such a big person look.
And yet, sometimes as I watch you sleep your lips still pucker up into nursing mouth, when it’s been five months since you last nursed. I wish I could have let you be a baby that way for longer.
You went and played with your Lulu the other day for 6 hours, the longest you’ve ever been away from me, complete with a two hour nap. By the last hour or two I was checking my phone for missed calls and wondering when you’d be back, but when you came in the door you smiled and you were glad to see us, but more interested in one of your toys you spotted. I had to grab you to get a hug at all. And that’s ok and good, and I’m very glad you had fun and were comfortable, but I found myself wishing you were a *tiny* bit more glad to see me. I’ve heard that’s normal, I guess.
You’ve only just started to be interested in walking while holding on to our hands. You’re such a mellow kid. Crawling was no rush, then once you could crawl it was plenty. Now walking is starting to be fun, especially if we cheer and clap.
But yesterday I was trying to tell you about the baby, pointing to my tummy and saying “baby” to you. I then asked you where the baby was and you pointed to my tummy. Then later that day when I had your daddy ask you where the baby was you pointed to his tummy. Then yours. Even after being shown babies in a book and being pointed to my tummy again. I guess baby is a concept you’ll have to learn first hand.
Ascher, as I see you doing all these big things I’m grateful for every baby snuggle you give me, even if they sometimes come at 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 am while you have a cold or get teeth and have trouble sleeping. Even if I growl with tired grump, little one, I’m your mama and that’s my job and rocking you in the dark with your head under my chin gets me a few more snuggles before another year or three or ten or twenty whoosh past me and you’re big.
Big or little, I’ll always be your mama. But thanks for not being big yet.
I love you.