Well, it's here. Brock's first birthday. I did not anticipate the emotions this day would trigger. I thought, more than anything, I would just be a little sad my teeny, tiny infant is now unquestionably a toddler. I thought I would miss some of his previous, adorable, needy stages. Instead, I got a flood of memories. I remember the day my water broke, the anticipation during labor, and seeing a wonderful, perfect, healthy baby boy. I remember the general feeling, the aura if you will, that surrounded that entire moment of birth and the crazy weeks to follow. I know that every subsequent child will provide me with new and unique experiences, emotions and love, but I really feel none can touch that of the first child. I have no expectations with Brock. Everything he does, every landmark he achieves, provides me with constant amazement.
After childbirth, though I know billions of women have been through it before, I felt like a rockstar. And the same proves true for seeing my child grow and learn. Though I know he is right on track with every other healthy baby, I see him and think, no way is any other baby as perfect as Brock. I mean, do other 11 month-old children pick up an empty plastic pitcher and put it to their mouth to pretend like they are drinking, fake gulping noises and all? Do they call Bermuda from their mother's cell phone? Do they say mom, dad, dog, baby and neigh neigh neigh neigh? Do they know how to identify their stuffed animal's by name? Do they prefer techno music to any other genre? I am as amazed and obsessed with that child every bit as much today as I was a year ago from now. I keep waiting for this feeling to disappear, and I just don't think it will. For that, I am happy.
Happy Birthday, Brock Thomas.
Well, it's here. Brock's first birthday. I did not anticipate the emotions this day would trigger. I thought, more than anything, I would just be a little sad my teeny, tiny infant is now unquestionably a toddler. I thought I would miss some of his previous, adorable, needy stages. Instead, I got a flood of memories. I remember the day my water broke, the anticipation during labor, and seeing a wonderful, perfect, healthy baby boy. I remember the general feeling, the aura if you will, that surrounded that entire moment of birth and the crazy weeks to follow. I know that every subsequent child will provide me with new and unique experiences, emotions and love, but I really feel none can touch that of the first child. I have no expectations with Brock. Everything he does, every landmark he achieves, provides me with constant amazement.
I lucked out and got a few days off throughout November while my preceptor takes a vacation. The first thought, which I verbalized to Matt, was: "Wow, our entire house might be clean all at one time". Good ol' reliably, realistic Matt replies; "Oh, I am sure you will come up with something you need to do, besides clean the house, that is obviously more urgent." And, I did. Brock's first birthday party!
Brock was a little lumberjack for Halloween. Adorable. Matt and I made the mini-suspenders and found the rest of the outfit at various stores such as Target, Walmart, The Children's Place, Party Warehouse, etc. We just visited all the grandparents, no trick-or-treating for us.
This weather graced us with the opportunity to visit a local pumpkin patch. I must say, having an adventurous, independent, psychotically active child that can finally walk on his own is...wonderful! Everyone warned us, look out when he walks, he will be everywhere. Well, he is everywhere, and he is happy about it, and his hands and knees are much less dirty. Life is much more pleasant for all involved. I thought I had a happy baby before, but I think he has hit his pinnacle.
