one

Dear Henry,

You're one! A whole year. Technically a year and a few weeks since your mama is a bit behind on her blog posting.

We celebrated a whole year of you with a super fun farm party at Grandma and Grandpa's house with a room of our favorite people.

You have learned sign language this month which has changed everything. You're able to communicate when you want "more" and when you're "all done." You say "uh-ooooooooh" when you drop something on the floor, and you race around the house giggling as the pets chase you. You stand frequently and take one step but plop down on your butt.

At your one-year appointment, you weighed in at 18.5 pounds - still in the 3rd percentile for height and weight. You're wearing 6-9 month clothing but gradually adding a few 12 month outfits to your wardrobe.

Your favorite toys are cars and trucks as well as a mini grand piano. You're a dancing machine and bounce your legs at the first sound of a beat. You laugh with your whole body when we poke your belly or tickle your neck.

We've switched to 2% milk, and you pretty much love all food with your favorites being watermelon, chicken enchiladas, Life cereal and bananas.

I can't believe it's been a year since you made me a mother. We've had some really hard times, some super fun ones and everything in between. There is not a second that goes by that I am not overwhelmingly blessed to call you my son.

Love you much.

Mama

"blood. everywhere."

We had Henry's one-year appointment yesterday which meant the return of the shots.He weighed in at 18lbs., 6 oz, and 27 inches (and a fourth!) inches long - 3% across the board.

He took his shots like a champ and just cried out twice but didn't even need mama snuggles. Next was a trip to the lab for a blood test to test for anemia and lead. Now, I do not handle blood tests well myself but after pregnancy where my body was fair game for every needle around, I am much braver. 

Still, Shea had to sit in the seat with Henry while I sat in the waiting room with my head between my knees, fingers in my ears and sweating through my shirt.

This, folks, is the picture of supportive motherhood.

Henry, though, was so calm that his blood stopped flowing. He is clearly not my child. Next, they did the finger prick where he just watched with curiosity as the blood dripped into the vials. 

They told us to wait five minutes before putting him in his car seat so that he couldn't rip off the gauze from his finger.

Exhibit A

We waited a few more minutes before driving the five minutes to our house. I looked back at a stoplight to see blood on Henry's legs, hands and the tip of his nose. I texted Shea, who was in the car behind me: "blood.everywhere."

I raced home, swung open the back door to find Henry finger painting with his blood all over his cheeks, nose, lips, hands, legs, shirt and car seat.

From baby to all boy toddler in one day. I'm stocking up on barf bags and Xanax.

the return, hopefully

Photo via  http://becausewecandoit.tumblr.com

I ran this week.

I could stop this blog post there, and it'd be significant enough. I am not here to make any public declarations like I did two years ago.

Maybe it's in the back of my mind, but I'm not setting myself up for that kind of public failure so late into the summer running months.

It's been hard the last two years. I ran until I was five months pregnant or so but it was winter and then my hips hurt a lot and Henry dropped really early so walking alone was a challenge. Then I had a baby who did not sleep through the night til...a week ago? And nursing was demanding. Plenty of excuses to pick from.

I hate the beginning. It hurts my calves, my hips, my lungs and my pride. It's almost worse starting from a beginner's place knowing what my body is actually capable of.

But hey, some cheesy philosopher person said a journey begins with a single step. According to the internets, I probably took 14,784 steps. A good start.