Let me just begin by admitting that I had, on my calendar, marked this day as the day I celebrate, margarita in hand, the hard end of the beloved 365 day nurse-a-thon. Oh, sure, yeah, and Naomi turned one. But margaritas you guys...

Alas, we have not reached that hard end yet nor do I have a margarita in hand. But I do believe there was a birthday. Yes, in fact I am sure there was a birthday. We made it! We really made it.

Honestly, I thought my pants would fit better today. I thought I'd have more patience. I wouldn't have let her take a too close to call head dive off the changing table or make it up the stairs by herself while I'm elbow deep in dishwater. I thought I'd be at all the library programs and recite farm animal noises till I was blue in the face. Frankly, I thought I'd do everything right.

Instead? Instead of being the perfect mom, I'll settle for being her mom. The one who gets to sit in the morning light with her, poop-filled diaper and all, enjoying the reset of a new day. I'm the one who gets to involuntarily teach her all the weird faces I didn't know I made. To watch her screetch in the bath. Ryle me up with her newest dinosaur noise. Eat parts of the succulents within reach (oops.). Smile every time she gets a glimpse of me out the back window from her carseat. Laugh uncontrollably every time I pop that silly little duck puppet from out behind the couch. I'm the one who knows her every face, every fear, every joy. I'm that mom - her mom. 

We got a pretty good one, folks. And although I'm biased, I think she's going to grow up to be a pretty cool human being. We'll keep her. At least for another year. 

This wasn't supposed to be a sappy post but I think it morphed into one and that's fine. To make up for it, I'll proceed to spam you with some of my favorite snaps from this past year. Hold onto your hats!


You're welcome. 


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