Today, my darling daughter #2, the Bird, turned ONE. I was expecting this to be a very difficult day. It wasn't. Not really. But as a very dear friend pointed out, it's basically the end of an era in my life. We're not planning to have more children. I will never have an infant again. No more tar-like poops, smushed up faces you can barely recognize, first smiles, first teeth, first ANYTHING really.
I'm not depressed. I had a good day. Both girls were in decent moods. No fights with the Peanut. The Bird was in a great mood all day. Overall, it was wonderful and celebratory. It's the downtime that I worry about. When I think of how quickly it's all gone, how I miss the littleness of her. I miss the littleness of the Peanut too, believe me. But the sweetness of the gummy mouth and how she used to suck on my chin...now I have to move her mouth away for fear of the clamp-down with her baby daggers, both top and bottom. But then, there's so much to look forward to, right?
Well, anyway, it was a good day. I'll keep telling myself it was. And I'll believe it.
Check back with me at 3AM. The demons always come at night.
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