One year old

Today Taylor is one year old. That’s right – 365 days ago, right now, I was in the middle of my 21 hour labor. And after a very long, very painful day, our daughter was born. And it was love at first sight. And at that moment, we didn’t think we could love someone so much, but now, after 12 months, our adoration has multiplied by about a billion. She is the most precious thing in the entire world, and we can’t imagine life without our daughter.

So, yes, Chris and I have officially been parents for one year. And we survived! We took the classes, we chatted up our friends and family who had kids – We thought we were prepared. And then, in the first few days we had her home, she was so severely jaundice that she had to live in a mini-tanning bed. And we realized, Hey, this is tough. Because the thought of anything or anyone hurting her turns us both into stark-raving lunatics. Seriously. You hurt my girl, I’ll cut you.

We survived her first major tumble down the stairs. It’s almost liked we progressed an echelon of parenthood after her nasty spill, as every other parent we told the story too pretty much one-upped us with a much worse baby-head wound tale. And now that she’s cruising at a good speed, not to mention her serious lack of depth perception, I’m guessing we might be able to surpass some of those stories in a few years.

But earlier this week, on our first sick-visit to the pediatrician since the jaundice, she had to get so many samples and swabs that she was starting to resemble a pin cushion. And then she had to get a blood sample from her arm. Not just a finger-prick. Which required myself, a nurse AND a lab tech to hold her down so they could try to find a vein. And after the tech stabbed her THREE times unsuccessfully, another nurse came into the room and started rubbing MY back. Because I was just about as hysterical as Taylor was. Maybe more. So while her popeye-arms don’t just possess super-baby strength, they also hold small veins. And it took going to an outpatient lab clinic, her getting stuck four more times and then two days of antibiotics for her fever to subside and for her to return to her normal, happy self. And for Chris and I to start breathing again.

So, Taylor’s 100-percent healthy and hilarious. She had a major personality-spurt this past month, and not just with her raspy belly-laugh and major prune-face. Our little girl has also started having mini-tantrums when we scold her. We’re not talking full-on, body throwing hysterics, but she’ll fling her head back and cry the cry where she stops breathing between sobs. And it’s all we can do not to laugh at her. Because it’s not like this scene is caused by her dropping a barbell on her foot. It happens because I tell her, NO, when she tries to suck on her diaper ointment.

Something that absolutely does not make her mad are all of her toys. And while she still adores her baby doll, she was obsessed with her books this past month. Chris and I can now recite Barnyard Dance in our sleep, Ten Little Ladybugs is held together by about two strands and we had a tragic The Very Hungry Caterpillar fatality a few weeks ago. She loves her books to death.

We could also dub month 11 as the month of teething. Or so we thought. Her top teeth are cutting through at a snail’s pace, but she did manage to pop her third tooth, bottom-left, last week. 31 days of buckets of drool and letting her chew on everything, and all we got was one, tiny spike. At this rate she’ll be able to pay for her own braces.

But I shouldn’t complain. With the past year literally flying by, I am not going to whine about anything going slow. It’s like the first three months took forever and then everything kicked into hyperdrive. Rolling over, sitting up, crawling, standing up, walking, running. Smiling, cooing, laughing, dancing. Am I feeling like this just because it’s my first year of motherhood, or will everything go this fast? I guess I will just have to shave some more time off my chores in order to sop-up as much Taylor-time as possible. So if you see us out, lay off the wrinkles. I’m too busy laughing and dancing with my one year old.