When I tell people I have a ‘baby’, and they respond with ‘how old?’ I’m no longer going to say it in days, weeks or months. But by year.
One whole year.
He’s not even really a baby anymore. He’s a little boy. A boisterous, mischievous little boy who is desperate to walk, climb the stairs and make as many friends as possible.
It’s a pretty odd feeling…
I’m full of emotion that our first year is over but brimming with excitement for the beautiful boy he is becoming. I can see how people get the broody feeling for a second, third, forth… as the months tick by and the baby stage is no more. I never thought I’d mourn sleepless nights, sterilising bottles and measuring out pots of formula. But here we are.
Those 52 weekly milestone pictures are complete and my mornings are spent scrolling through time hop watching our newborn boy alter ￼￼day to day through streams of tears. As I’m sure every morning will be now for the rest of my life 🙈 😂😂
The fun continues
But since he reached one, a mere 14 days ago, he seems to have grown up more and more each day. Things that he struggled with, such a slotting together small pieces of Duplo, he’s quickly nailed with only a little guidance from us. Words are forming every day and his chatty personality is shining through brightly.
Everything’s become a climbing frame, and it won’t be long before we are hunting out activities to burn off his excess energy in the winter months.
I’m sure I’ve said this at every stage (aside from colic… 😳🤯) but this truly is my favourite age. We laugh, we play, and he brings me a new trick every day.
So as much as I’m wishing back those newborn snuggles, I know I’ll miss these babbling baby days when he’s running around and asking me a million and one questions I can’t answer.
The one thing motherhood has taught me in these past 12 months? Cherish every single second. Time passes in the blink of an eye.