When Jack turned one, I remember feeling like I had climbed Mount Everest.
You know, that "I did it! Holy shit! How did I do that? It was hard! And I did it!" kind of feeling.
I remember my first year as a mother as a delightful trial. It is, in my memory, both hazy and crystal clear, an experience both hard and gently instinctive.
Sawyer is five months old today. And pardon me for getting ahead of myself, but that means next month he will be six months old, which is half a year, which means that time is flying, which means that before I know it, he'll be a year old, and I sort of don't feel like I'm climbing Mount Everest this time.
Which is not to say that Sawyer has been easy. Nope.
But I guess he has us where he wants us. Jack is wrapped around his little finger. The dogs rush up to greet him every morning when I open the door to the nursery. His teachers are smitten. My heart did a Grinch-like expansion to make room for all the love I have for this kid. Durel beams with pride at his two little dudes.
And Sawyer, well, he seems pleased with us, too.
Hope you get all your ducks in a row today.