dear cupcake,

One year ago I woke up with an insatiable desire to clean my house. I spent the whole day cleaning and doing laundry. I was 39 weeks pregnant, and the nesting bug finally hit me, with force. I worked all day and into the night, folding laundry while Mr. Boss and I watched a movie after putting the kids to bed. I was suspecting that labor would start in a day or two, but soon learned it was already starting. Suddenly my day-long cleaning-spree made sense to me. Suddenly, I realized, I needed to post my 39 week update on the blog. (Priorities!) I typed out a little note to Cupcake, and a tiny post to go with it, then scheduled it to go up the next morning. As I put that post together I fully assumed that I would have a baby in my arms before that scheduled post was published. Oh, but I was wrong. (Birth Story: part 1, part 2, and part 3)

Yesterday was a year since I took my 39 week photo. I dressed myself in the same clothes I wore that day, and we went to the same park for some new pictures. A then and now, if you will.

It doesn't feel like it's been a year. When people ask how old S is I have to think about it for a moment. I'm so ready to just say he's six months, because that sounds right. But it isn't. I feel like I missed something, even though I've been here every day, watching him grow. The cliche will forever live on, it really does go too fast. I'll probably remain in denial, though. I've been hanging out there since C went and grew up before my eyes (this isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening...) They're supposed to be my babies forever! Well, that's what I think, and that's what I'll continue to call them. Except while they're three, because that seems to be the year of the protest.