Dear Paxton,

You are a big one year old.  Even though we’ve celebrated, we’ve sang, and we’ve opened presents, it doesn’t seem to sink in.  One year.  It’s the point where you switch from a baby to a toddler.  Where I look at you and I realize you’re not covered in rolls anymore, and you’re starting to be Miss Independent.  You don’t need Mommy for everything, especially for your main source of nutrition.  One year.

It’s been a rough week in our house.  I had all of these elaborate plans for your actual birthday.  I imagined making you pancakes in the shape of number 1’s, putting streamers on your door that you could crawl in and out of, getting you some balloons to play with, and greeting you with all the energy and enthusiasm that you deserve.  Then I got the stomach flu.  Not only did I not do any of those things, but I also took the afternoon off, snuck in to the house while Katie was watching you, and went to bed.  Grandma Connie came over to help after school because your daddy had jury duty, work, and then meetings.  I certainly didn’t make your special day, very special.  But that’s what I get for making plans.

On Saturday (after a trip to the ER on Friday for fluids and IV meds), I was semi-living.  Your daddy watched you while I decorated for your party with the help of Grandma and Grandpa, Katie, and Grammy and Pops.  I have been excited about your puppy paw-ty for a long time, and just knew you were going to love seeing all your friends.  I also couldn’t wait to see you devour your gluten free cake.  (I wonder if by the time you read these if you will still be gluten free.)

We went fairly simple on the party.  Pupcakes (cupcakes), puppy chow, fetch sticks (chocolate covered pretzels), chewy bones (rice krispies), and pupcorn (popcorn).  Drink choices were toilet water, puddle tea, or lemonade, which I named “Never eat yellow snow.”  There was a place to wipe your paws, and a little pups playpen for all the kids.  The favors were puppy coloring books wrapped in newspaper with paw print crayons.  There was also an “Adopt-a-Puppy” station with rubber-ducky-puppies, if that makes any sense at all.

We had no agenda for the party.  People came and ate, and we gave you the cake.  You touched it and then looked at me like I was crazy for giving it to you.  It was your first real experience with sugar, and to be honest, you weren’t a big fan.  As a photographer, I was super disappointed.  As a mom, I was like, yesssss.  I’ve been hoping you won’t have the same sweet tooth that I do.

After the poor showing at the cake-smash, you opened (and by you, I mean your dad and I) a hundred presents from the people who love you like crazy.  I thought our house was full after Christmas.  It’s borderline needing a storage shed at this point!  You loved your presents, especially your puppy dog chair and your baby doll.

It was so neat to just enjoy all the kids running around.  I felt old and I felt proud, and of course, a little nauseous, all at the same time.  I look around at the people I grew up with, or met along my ride at some point, and I can only wish the same for you.  I looked at Lindsey, Kristen, and Kelsey, my lifelong friends since I was a little girl.  I’m so lucky to have a solid foundation from my hometown.  I look at Rachel, a true gem I met in college, and will forever be really close to.  I look at your daddy’s family, my family, and see how incredibly supported we are with raising you, loving you, and spoiling you.  I look at the group of friends from Auburn that I adopted when I started dating your daddy- Ben and Kim, Zach and Tiff, Josh and Mindy.  I look at the people I’ve met along my teaching path- Ashley, Jen, Mel, Bethany.  And then there’s the children, the husbands… the crew.  I looked at Kendra, the nurse that was there for my entire delivery, and is now a great friend.  We are so blessed, little girl.  Find people like this.  Find people like this, and don’t let them go.  Work hard to stay in touch.  I’m really bad at that.  I find myself getting too busy to call and just catch up.  And then I’m amazed when I do call, or receive a call, and it’s like we’ve never missed a step.  Those are the beautiful relationships in life.  You see, any of those people I just listed, would drop anything to come and help, and most of them have at some point in my life.  Friendships are rare, fragile, amazing things.  But they’re so worth fighting for.

Tomorrow we go to the doctor for your 1 year appointment.  She’ll ask if you’re walking, and we’ll say that you’re not even close.  This still cracks me up, because your daddy walked at 9 months.  He clearly didn’t have the same chubby little legs that you have, and those itty bitty feet.  Seriously…the rest of you is growing, but those feet… those feet have been that small for the entire past year.  It’s like your toes don’t even have enough room on the end of your feet.  The doctor will ask if you’re saying anything.  That, I’m not at all concerned about!  You are a regular old chatterbox.  You definitely tell us what you want.  You answer, “What does a pig say, what does a cow say, what does a bear say, what does santa say (my favorite)?”  You say mama, dada, pop, ba ba for bath, and juh for jersey.  When we ask you something, you get all excited, shake you head up and down and say, “Yah Yah.”  You sign “all done” when you are finished eating (or when you’ve just started and you don’t like the meal) and will sign “more” if I do it first.  Your routine right now is to wake up around 7 (sometimes after), drink some milk, eat breakfast (usually oatmeal and toast or a waffle), nap for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, snack, eat lunch, nap another hour or 2, snack, eat dinner, bath time, story time, prayers, and bed by 7.

Your daddy loves this age more than anything.  I love that we know what you need, but I definitely miss your newborn snuggles.  I also wasn’t prepared for the temper tantrums. I don’t know why I wasn’t prepared, your Grammy warned me, but they are something else!  You throw your arms back, slam your heels against the floor, get red in the face, and let me have it.  It’s usually because I won’t let you eat dog food or play in Jersey’s water bowl.  Or when I can’t get your food on your tray fast enough…Lord have mercy.  Your daddy, I’m finding out more and more each day, was born to be a daddy.  He lights up when he sees you.  He loves to chase you up and down the hallway.  And when I was sick for 6 days, that felt like 6 weeks, he took care of you, and me with no hesitation.  I would lay in bed wondering how single mothers/fathers and stay at home moms/dads do it (more power to you women and men) and I would listen to him giggling with you during bath time, and I would just breathe in, breathe out, and count my blessings.  Speaking of rare, fragile relationships, find someone just like your daddy.  Well, it would be ok if he was a little more handy around the house (sorry, Tony), but otherwise, just like your daddy.  Find someone who is as good at changing diapers and kissing boo-boos as he is at making you feel special and giving you butterflies.  It’s not a fairytale like they tell you, but it’s real, and it’s vulnerable, and it’s an incredible thing.

One year.  I look at you and think there is no possible way to love you anymore.  And I truly don’t think there is, but tomorrow you will wake up, I will open your door, see that smile, hear that giggle and shriek, and I will fall into you all over again.  You, my dear, are my happiness.  I couldn’t wait to feel better so I could go back to work, so I could sleep well, so I could eat again, but mostly, I couldn’t wait to feel better again so I could experience you again. I simply cannot get enough of being your momma.  There are so many relationships in life that are amazing and complicated and worth fighting for.  But there’s nothing in the world like the one that calls you “Mama”.

Stay tuned for your one year pictures from the studio…I’ll get around to taking those.  Probably about the same time I make your pancakes and put streamers on your door.

I love you,

Your mom.