This time last year....

I was a woman in serious need of drugs ;-)

Yep, as of 5.25 tomorrow morning, my little man is one year old.

Good Gods, where did that year go!

Braeden's having his birthday party on Saturday, with a melee' of family & friends turning up to celebrate his first year, and to officially witness his naming ceremony. After much debate, we've chosen his Good Parents (which is what Godparents were originally called before religion got in on the act), and he's not related to either of them. Not that we're short of perfectly wonderful people within the families, but in the end we chose long time friends who have proven themselves excellent parents with very similar values to our own, and have chosen to be very heavily involved with Braeden since his birth.

If I thought I was busy in the first eleven months of Braeden's life, I had another think coming. Once he considered himself Totally Toddler, he simultaneously became more interactive, more extra active, and yet both more and less restful! He went from three sleeps per day down to two, and he tries on a weekly basis (but never "weakly"!) dropping that down to a grudging single daily sleep.

However (fingers, eyes, toes & legs firmly crossed on this) he seems to be finally (gasp!) SLEEPING THROUGH!

Part of this is having his own bedroom, ever since his parents moved out to half of the lounge. Part is his mother finally learning that it's okay to turn the sound & movement monitor down from top volume, and thus not necessarily responding to every burp, fart & grumble. And part is getting him to give up his night drinkies, so that midnight nappy changes are no longer as essential.

He now goes to Playcentre twice a week, and loves it. Wayne has taken him once or twice when I've been unable to be in two places at once, and despite feeling a bit discomforted about waltzing in to what is considered (at least by men) to be womens-only territory, he coped well and was warmly welcomed by the other Mums (at least, when they finished picking their jaws off the floor.. but that might have been his nerves causing him to think they were that surprised).

Braeden isn't totally confident about walking by himself without something to clutch (furniture, parent, dog, etc) but if you sneak a peek you might see him stride about four feet from one toy to another when he feels like it and doesn't want to take the time to drop & crawl.

He's doing very well with baby sign language, communicating when he wants milk, food, cuddles, picking up & a nappy change. His babbletalk is quite impressive, and he can carry his half of a conversation for quite a long time, raving enthusiastically about all sorts of Very Important Baby Things (as Very Important Baby People are wont to do).

He has nearly nine teeth, and has become fascinated by other people's teeth ever since he saw his paternal grandmother pop hers out at him (ARRRRGGGHHHH .... and the more I scold the wench the more she does it! Good thing I really love my MIL, heh heh).

So on this momentous night of memories, I look back on some of the things I thought I knew back then, and snigger.

I hated dummies, yet Braeden has four. Every so often he gets down to one (the dummy fairies seem to hide them for some reason), and we live in clammy fear that he'll lose that one too.

I thought that working parenthood was pretty much a matter of organisation & determination. I had no room for the possibility that it 99% depends on the largesse of the child, the amount of sleep deprivation, and the ability to utterly tune out & tune in. Nowadays I work when he sleeps, and that can mean sitting up til 1am just so I can get the deadlines met & the mortgage paid. The rest of the time is Braeden's; either doing the physical care stuff or the hugely FUN stuff! Forget having a second childhood. I'm enjoying Braeden's too much to fret the mundane stuff.

I read a quote recently that defines motherhood as walking around with your heart outside your body. That's too true, and it is not confined to your own sprog. There's something about parenthood that makes you realise your days of self centredness may have been fun at the time, but they are now soooo over! Not that you don't sometimes secretly yearn for them on days when you've got a scorching migraine, the child is doing the whiny MMnnnnnHHHHHHH noise, the nor'wester is howling and the fax machine keeps spewing out more work and shorter deadlines. But then you get a big beamy smile, a grubby fist hands you today's favourite toy for you to enjoy, and you hear "Mum!" and suddenly it's all in perspective again.

Thanks for your first year, my heartsong. I wasn't properly alive before I met you.