My little dude is turning 1 year old this month. In some ways, the year has flown by, it seems like he was just born and now he’s an almost-walking, chatty (in his own language) little man. And yet, when I look back at all of the things that happened between then and now, all of the things I didn’t know and how much I’ve learned, it’s hard to remember life without him and last July seems like a very long time ago. Some things I’ve learned:
- It’s hard not to rely on cliche, when so many of them are true, like that parenthood is the hardest, most exhausting, and most wonderful thing ever.
- Parenthood didn’t fundamentally change who I am, but it did make my life feel more meaningful (again with the cliches). I was worried that I might be unrecognizable or that my identity would be lost in the transition, but besides an earlier bedtime and a stagnant passport I haven’t become a different person. What have shifted are my priorities, which I guess makes the bedtime and passport things less important anyway.
- When calling in sick to work, don’t cancel the babysitter.
- Baby poop isn’t that gross when it’s your own baby. But it’s still kind of gross.
- I have a new appreciation for sweet potatoes and any food that can be easily smashed and served.
- T.V. is even more hypnotic to babies than it is for adults; sometimes it’s just too easy.
- My relationship with my parents hasn’t changed as much as I’d heard it might, but I think they see me in a whole new light and I certainly enjoy trying to imagine them going through similar things with me that I am experiencing now with my dude.
- It is really hard to find even somewhat gender neutral clothing for babies. But I’m less squeamish about my dude wearing blue than I though I would be, it’s a nice color and makes his eyes sparkle.
- The faint possibility that great harm will come to my child from a plane crashing into our apartment building, falling off a boat, or being stung by a West Nile virus-carrying mosquitto feels upsettingly possible when trying to fall asleep.
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