Twelve Months

Dearest Leah,

Snuggle in sweetie, this is going to be a long one. I'm finding it nearly impossible to summarize the first year of your life. So often it seems like we just brought you home from the hospital; I can barely even fathom the fact that you have actually been here for twelve whole months. You, my love, are one year today. 

One year...

Crap, wait a sec..

Better.

Watching you grow into this teeny tiny person has been the most fulfilling time in my life so far. And it's hard for me to imagine now, but I know it's only going to get better. 

This past month you have learned to clap. I think it partially comes from playing pattycake with your grammy, but also I like to grasp your tiny wrists and do it for you. Which inevitably cracks you up. Now when you do it on your own, you hold one had still while slapping the other against it. It's much cuter than I am describing it, I swear. 

Your getting pretty good at cruising along furniture, and sometimes, for a split second, you will stand on your own. Although the moment you realize it you drop down to your knees and crawl away.

You're so silly. You laugh so much, and so often. And your hearty little belly laughs are impossibly contagious. We just can't get enough.

Why you make a B-line for my bra every morning is beyond me. 

(it's usually on the bed as I'm getting dressed)

(I wasn't naked when I took this picture)

Your birthday was a total blast. We had both families over (about 19 people)! I ordered the template for your invitation from E.tsy and printed them at Cos.tco, I got the banner for your party with E.tsy as well! 

(Momma has no problems paying for convenience.) 

So happy with how this turned out!

Love this design, but it was supposed to say Happy 1st Birthday

I made your cake myself because, well, I take pride in preparing every ounce of food that goes into your little body. Since I haven't introduced you to Wheat yet, I made you a gluten free cake. (I've only held off on wheat because I'd like to limit the amount of processed foods I give her, not for any allergy concerns.) Anyway, I bought a gluten free cake mix, since I have no interest in investing in Rice and Tapioca Flours; and made a chocolate butter cream frosting from scratch. 

You ate two bites, and seemed mostly uninterested.

This will not always be the case. (I keep telling myself.) 

The mix provided plenty of batter so I poured some into an 8x8 pan with the intentions of cutting your piece into the shape of a 1. 

And poured the rest into a 5 inch round. 

 Which was good thinkin' cause the top part of the 1 broke off 

while I was frosting it. 

BULLOCKS.

Pretty happy with the other final product though...

This is what everyone else ate. I totally did not make it. 

Your first birthday present was a 4-in-1 Trike! You LOVE it. 

I had the best time decorating. My main objective was to take the focus away from the Christmas decorations. While the pictures don't really do it justice, 

I believe I was successful. 

A vase inside a vase, fill the larger one with gum balls!

 That is your "Birthday Tree" on the left.

Almost done, but I would like to close this post with 'A Mother's Prayer'. 

I did not write it. It is more eloquent and thoughtful than I could ever divine.

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half; And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes, And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long, and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,”she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”

-Tina Fey
(An Excerpt from her fabulous book, Bossy Pants)

Can't wait to see what the next YEAR brings!

Love you more than you'll ever know,

Momma