Today my son is one. In some ways, the past year seems like a lifetime to me, too. I don't remember what life was like before Gray. That girl that I used to be who took risks just for the thrill is a fond memory in my mind, but she's not me anymore. That baby, the tiny 5 lb 7 ounce newborn narcoleptic that we brought home from the hospital? That's not Gray anymore, either. He is strong, independent, happy. He loves to be worn, loves to be naked, loves to be a big boy. He asserts his opinion without ever saying a word. When he's thirsty he will point to my glass of water, or climb to it if it is within reach. When he's done drinking he pushes the glass away with his hands and gives me a stern look. He gets excited when me and Daddy share a hug or kiss and walks over to get his hugs and kisses, too, with a big grin on his face and pure joy in his eyes. He kicks and squirms to be put down when we're outside, sometimes at his own peril. When he's done in the bath, he comes to the edge of the tub, looks me in the eye and lifts his left leg - always the left leg - out of the tub. When I say "Are you ready to get out?" and reach for his towel, he puts his leg down, grins, and reaches his arms high in the air.
He understands things now and it is an amazing gift to get to watch him learn. He knows that eyes are for seeing and he will peek into small spaces to see what is beyond. He knows how to push the top off the ottoman, but sometimes instead he just pushes it enough so there is a tiny crack, then he kneels down and squints in the crack to see what is inside. Other days he empties the ottoman of its' contents and pushes it around, so proud of himself you'd think he was pushing around a cart of gold. Just this last week he learned he can pull stuff, too. He pushed the ottoman across the room and then pulled it back, taking these funny exaggerated steps because he didn't quite understand how to pull and walk at the same time. Sometimes he gets down on his belly to see what is under the coffee table and I love watching him squat and look, get on knees and look, then finally get on his belly to get a good long look under the table.
He climbs everything. Nothing more can be said here because he gives me a heart attack every time, but I know it's only going to get worse. I fully expect he will have climbed to the ceiling by his next birthday.
He loves to be hung upside-down. He cracks up and it is hilarious for me, too. It's also the only time I can get a good look at his teeth (which are still in his gums) and see how they are progressing. Maybe someday he will get a tooth. Maybe today.
I know now that each day is fleeting. I remember the days when he woke up at 11 pm and stayed awake until 3 or 4 or 5 am and just how frustrated I'd be trying to get him back to sleep. I wish I'd been able to appreciate those first days a little more. Sometimes I get a glimpse of that newborn, at night when Gray nurses he rolls over to me and makes pitiful puppy sounds until he gets latched on and then sucks hard with a "MMMMmmm" like he's a dehydrated man in the desert who just found a spring, and I remember that newborn, with the ridges in his head, eyes that doodled all around and hands that spontaneously, uncontrollably, grabbed at the air.
This past year has been a blur and a lifetime. I love Gray more than I ever knew was possible. He inspires me to be a better person, a better mama. I hope he is better than me, smarter than me, kinder than me. I hope he is happy, successful, amazing. He is everything I ever dreamed of and so much more. My sweet boy is one today. Happy birthday, Gray. I love you.
