In less than a month, my son will turn one year old. It has been one hell of year. A year of learning to be a mother, of trial and error, of tears and of joy. The years to come are years filled with events and memories I look forward to making: learning about cars from his mechanic daddy, watching my father teach him to ski as he did with me and my brother, going on family vacations, hearing his opinions, watching him grow into a little man. But all of this can wait.
As I count down the days until he has his first birthday cake, I find myself begging for time to slow down. The phrase I was so tired of hearing just a year ago is one I myself keep saying: It goes so fast. I am now attempting to soak in all of the little quirks this little boy has. Soaking in all the little moments. The moments I already miss.
It seems silly to miss things that I have right now. But how can I not mourn the things that I know will be gone soon, the things I will never see from this little boy ever again. Granted, some things will still be here for a while. None of them will magically leave the day he turns one. It’s just that noting that an entire year has passed brings to light how quickly time flies and makes the reality that your baby will one day grow up all the more real.
So here are the things I already miss about my little boy. The things that when they happen, I drop everything and breath them in a little deeper, trying to hold on to them a little tighter in hopes that they will stay a little longer.
The way his little hand curls around mine when I’m nursing him.
The way he still, at 11 months, needs me, and only me, to rock him to sleep.
The squeal that shatters my ears when our dog nudges his belly.
The proud face he makes when he stands up on something, looking around to see who else saw.
The way he sings along to the radio in the car, going, “BAAABAAABAAAA!”
How he gets shy and rubs he face in the crook of my neck when a stranger talks to him.
The way he pulls hard on his own hair when he’s starting to fall asleep.
The excited face he makes when you walk into his room after he wakes up and sees you.
The way he would rather play with an empty plastic cup rather than one of his plethora of toys.
The way he tugs at my face when I’m trying to get him to sleep, shoving tiny fingers into my nose.
The way he slams his hands on his highchair when he wants food.
The way his hair curls on either side of his head, giving him horns.
His laugh, his yawn, his grumpy face, his smile, his chubby legs, his round belly, his tiny feet, his scrunchy nose, his soft, curly hair, his bright blue eyes.
These are the things that I am taking mental pictures and videos of. These are the things I hope are burned into my mind forever. These are the things I already miss.
Linking up this week for Thinking Out Loud with Running With Spoons!