It's been awhile since I've written a quiz, so how about I surprise you with one now.
A) She's been too busy
B) She's been waiting on Mimsydotes' amazing pictures of you
C) She's been a bit of an emotional wreck about it, so she's been putting it off for fear of dissolving into a pile of goo when she starts writing.
We all know that any woman in her thirties can use excuse #1, pretty much at any time. Excuse #2 is sort of true, and sure enough Mimsydotes did deliver:
However, let's just be honest. The answer is C. Because last year, this happened:
And now, this:
And that's a whole lot for a woman in her thirties to take.
So let's start with the easy stuff, which is to say your general awesomeness. You, Mr. Handsome, could also be called Mr. Curious:
(Look closely and you'll see your first shiner, received while catapulting toward a toy piano.)
You are the opposite of your sister in so many ways, which has thrown me for a loop. But, just like her, you experience life with such joy that it's impossible not to be infected by it when in your presence.
Most of the time.
I imagine that any person who's had more than one child understands the anxiety of getting through the first year. You know how hard it is with one, and the thought of another is enough to cause heart palpitations. Or maybe that's just me. What I'm trying to say is that I'm pretty darn proud of myself for getting through this last year with you. It's been hard, I'm not going to lie. I often felt so bogged down with logistics (and foggy from a lack of sleep, you stinker), that I'm afraid I didn't enjoy the little moments with you. I didn't fall asleep with you in my arms; I didn't spend an afternoon playing with your toes. It was go, go, go.
Look out, buddy.
Non stop. The entire year.
Here comes the mushy part.
There hasn't been a single day that I haven't thanked God for you; for us. Even at my most sleep-deprived and chaotic, even when your Dad was gone on business for weeks at a time, it's always been with me.
Aaron, I'm not sure I'll ever get you to fully understand how lucky we both are. Even your Dad, your tough-as-nails Da-Da, has gotten a little choked up over the last week at the milestone that is your birthday.
How beyond blessed we are to have you with us. How we weren't complete until you came. How happy this birthday really, truly is.
I think your pediatrician said it best when I brought you in for your first appointment, last year at this time. You were only a few days old, fresh out of your stay in the NICU and not quite six pounds. She knew our story while I was pregnant, and hearing how you came into the world had us both in tears.
'Sometimes we forget,' she said. 'What a miracle it really is to have a child.'
Miracle, indeed, Mr. B. And you are mine.