Hi little girl. Mama tells me it was a year ago today when she found out you were on the way, and I’ve spent some time reflecting on the difference a year makes. It’s hard to remember what life was like without the scent of your fuzzy warm head in my nose, the beautiful sound of your voice, or your bright early morning smile.

A lot of things have changed since last January, many of them not so good. Outside our cozy little house, the world is trying desperately to hold itself together until a new sheriff comes to town with the almost impossible task of getting things back on track. It amazes me that you will grow up with a black President, something I thought I’d never see in my lifetime, and you will think nothing is out of the ordinary about this fact while the rest of us hold our breath and pray he is able to accomplish half of what we hope he can. As much as I like him, I haven’t gotten as worked up about his first day as the rest of the country seems to be; we’re only an hour from the Capitol, but your Mama and I have no desire to try to see him inaugurated in person with the rest of the country. Perhaps it’s the cold weather. Or maybe the projected ratio of people to portable sanitation facilities. Whatever the case, we’re going to stay home and watch it from here in front of a warm fire.

It’s hard to believe the difference a month makes too, for that matter. You’re a completely different baby since the middle of December: you’re sleeping on a regular schedule now, you’re happy when you’re awake, full of giggles and energy, and you’re making great leaps in development. We’ve even moved you into a full-sized crib from the cosleeper, which didn’t seem to faze you at all—we were terrified it would be a struggle to get you used to a larger bed. Especially seeing how small you look in that thing, like a duck landing on an aircraft carrier. Mama has spent a lot of time getting you ready for sitting up and rolling over, and even though being on your stomach makes you scream like we’ve stuck you with a cattle prod, I think you’re getting bored with the view from your back. For a kid who kicks her feet as much as you do, I think you might go straight from laying down to pole vaulting in the space of an afternoon.

You’re getting bigger by the minute, too, which is wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. It seems like last week I could fit your entire hand on my thumbnail, and now your fingers encircle mine with a grip of iron and direct the bottle to your mouth: MORE FOOD NOW. Slow down so we can enjoy you as an infant just a little while longer, OK?

Date posted: January 19, 2009 | Filed under finn | Comments Off on Four Months/One Year.

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