My son turned one yesterday. His birthday was funner than a ferris wheel. All day I was thinking about how much I loved him and how awesome he was. He was fabulously cute and well-behaved too. It'll be a shame when I don't get to plan how he spends his birthdays because, I have to say, I did a bang-up job.
At this time last year I was huge, sleep-deprived, ripped, bruised, and unwashed. Now I'm thin, not-so-sleep-deprived, only slightly scratched (and in much more comfortable locations), only slightly bruised (ditto on the locations), and showered. Puh-less, I have an awesome one-year-old asleep on the futon who, when he wakes up, will grin and make me feel like I'm the coolest person he's ever met. And maybe I just am.
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