Five days until my babies are one year old. All month I’ve been telling people who ask that the girls are “almost a year old.” Now I want them to ask so I can say “eleven months” just a few more times. There’s something so special about being less than one year old, but somehow it feels like they went from 10 months old to “almost a year old” and skipped right through being just plain old 11 months old.
And yet, for a month we barely acknowledged, I think the girls have changed and learned more in the last few weeks than they have since they were newborns. Since 10 months they’ve gone from crawling to taking a few wobbly steps. They’re figuring out puzzles, stacking blocks, and how to kick balls and roll them right to me.
They also play with each other more and more: today Catalina repeatedly crawled out of their (adorable!!) tent castle just so she could crawl back in and surprise Lucy. They have their own words that actually mean things, and are getting more consistent in the gestures they use for different things. And they have very definite opinions about where they want to be and what they want to do. They’re not really babies anymore; they’re tiny little girls.
I’m not sad about them turning one, although I have been so nostaglic. I’ve reached the point I wasn’t sure I could ever reach– the point where my memory glosses over the unbelievable sleep deprivation enough to think fondly of the newborn days instead of shuddering at the utter exhaustion I felt then. Seriously, people, I have always wanted four or five kids and yet one early early morning as I pleaded with a sleeping four-pound baby to take her bottle so I could sleep (like she was doing) I concluded that if parents remembered those days with any accuracy, they would never have another baby. Ever.
I guess I’ve reached the happily forgetful stage. I’m also learning that sleep is not the be all and end all of life. As this wonderful blog post points out, it’s just tired. I can deal with the tired. Yes, I might cry for tiredness, and I have. Yes, I might call someone on the five-minute drive home from Target because I will fall asleep. But if the reward is this amazing process of raising tiny humans, it is so, so worth it. Please remind me of that when the next one comes, ha.
Five more days of being 11 months old. If you run into me, ask me how old they are. You won’t hear “almost one” from me– this month is too good to miss.