She kisses her babydolls on the head now. She pats me on the back whenever I hold her. She “calls” the dogs to come to her. When the doorbell rings and Sophie starts barking, she pretends she’s scared and crawls to me crying, but the minute I pick her up, she smiles and kicks and looks at me like, “let’s go see who’s here.” The “Baby’s Firsts” pages in her baby book are completely full except for one little blank spot waiting to be filled with her first steps details. She tries to unbuckle her carseat when the car stops ‘cuz she knows that’s what we always do. She dances to music. She tries to sing. …she’s gunna be one, you know.

I love this dress.

Pardon me if I wax poetic for the next two weeks as The Great “One” approaches, but I was thinking today how happy I am. So many people told me it goes by fast, to enjoy every second, that you can’t go back…yada yada. And I know that. I have NO regrets. Twenty years from now, I know I will look back with nothing but thankfulness that I realized it doesn’t last forever. I’ve kissed as many kisses as one can. I’ve watched her sleep, drank in her sweet breath, closed my eyes when I held her whispering to myself, “this is magic…this is magic…this is magic.” I don’t wish I would have savored it any more than I have…because I savored it to the utmost..and still do.

I’m not ready yet. A year looms near and all the books say to wean, but I don’t go by the books. I go by her…and me. She’s not ready. She loves her baba…and won’t have anything to do with a sippy cup. I’m gunna miss her baba trance when it’s over.

I’ve entered into the almost-a-year zone, and I spend my days flipping through her baby book, looking at old pictures, and wondering where the time went. A year ago, I was lying on the couch watching the t.v. remote fall off my belly because she kicked so hard. Time, motherhood, babies, love…it’s all so amazing.