We made it to the summer, and we survived the first year.
They say everything gets better with time, and they also warn you that when you’ve reach time XX, you would’ve cleared all the issues preceding XX, and that you will now be in a place/time/space continuum where your child won’t do YY any longer.
F it. You think you raise your child, but in fact, they are gently guiding you along. You make boundaries, you train, you reinforce – but all those things are because your child is open and willing to adapt to your requirements. Your child may or may not do YY any longer, but they’ll start doing AA or BB a few days later.
I am over the moon happy that the first year is over – the growth, both physical and emotional, is daunting and I’m frankly surprised little babies don’t run around crabby the entire time. He hasn’t stopped teething, hasn’t ever succumbed fully to being sleep trained, and frankly refuses to stop moving – but I love every ounce of him for it. My son is in a relentless rush to do something all the time for no reason at all, and that passion and intensity reminds me of myself. So who am I to blame him for opening every drawer, throwing every toy, opening every door, and running around everywhere when he literally has nothing better to do but to explore the world he was brought into!
His birthday party was great, and those pictures, along with his 10, 11, and 12 month pictures (11 and 12 weren’t actually taken), will eventually make it up to the blog…but until then, I’ve learned a few things about the 1st year birthday party:
- It’s for you, not for your child.
- It’s a celebration that you survived.
- Don’t kill yourself or go over board – because you still have to take care of him that night and clean up the next day!
- Determine a budget and stick with it (these birthday themes are GREAT at killing budget, aka Etsy)
Now that we’ve transitioned more into solids, life has become mildly easier. I spent MY birthday this morning taking him to get his first blood draw so our pediatrician can give us the green light for cow’s milk – not the best way to start the day for anybody, let alone a 1 year old. Once the milk transition is done, he will be a bonafide mini-me. The best part is I didn’t have to teach him any of the snooty crap I fall prey to – he hates pasta sauce that’s plain (garlic, a little spice, and some slow simmering please!), loves ketchup on everything (who doesn’t?), and enjoys a mean espresso in the morning (Dunkin Donuts what?)
After our lovely experience at the hospital, he showed off his manual dexterity by eating his entire lunch on his own, in a high chair, at a restaurant, without throwing more than 1 fit. #success.
36 years later, I’m still learning, and still grateful that my parents invested all of the love, time, and effort into making me the father and man I am today. I hope 35 years from now, Aarya feels the same way (if not, he can hopefully read about me bitching about him on this blog, if the internet still exists in the future in a 2 dimensional form).