Today my baby is one year old.
It doesn't feel real to me. His first year went so much faster than his older brother's. With the first baby, you have more time to smell those roses, you know? Time to focus all of your attention solely on this little person for practically most of the day. Time to savor each moment, each new milestone and discovery.
Two is different. When you have two, your attention is necessarily divided. And I feel like I've been so busy trying to keep the mechanics of daily life running smoothly, and running constance triage duty--putting one kid's needs on hold while I deal with his sibling's more pressing needs--that I've missed out on a good deal of that blessed, magical honeymoon period.
I need to keep in mind that every day with a child is full of wonder. I need to smell those roses a little more and stop worrying so much about tending the garden.
But I still feel kind of sad that we're "here" already. A year. Where did that go?