It’s 8:15am and Crosby is already taking his first nap of the day. Because 5am wakeup. Whoever said that him getting up before 6am was a “phase” owes me a 10-month supply of Stumptown. It doesn’t happen EVERY morning anymore, but it still happens more than humanly necessary. The only positive from this (sleepy) situation is that I get so much accomplished before the rest of the world is still in their REM cycle. So far this morning I’ve served my kid and I breakfast, done a load of laundry, read 4 books, danced around the dining room to children’s music, talked to my dad, engaged in a lengthy text convo with my pal, scheduled a dental appointment, solved world hunger and (drumroll please) gotten dressed! ::fistpumps::
I likely won’t do anything else productive for the rest of the day though, so.
But speaking of little Crosboy, he is officially 1 1/2 years old today! Non-parents reading this are like, WTF who cares. And I’m all like, I knowwww but half birthday’s mean something when your kid is this little. I don’t know why? It’s just a rule or something. Probably because every month is so significant, developmentally, when they’re this young? Or maybe it’s because we’re all just so obsessed with our tiny little monkeys, we’ll take any excuse to talk about them/celebrate them/make ourselves feel bad about how quickly they’re growing.
So what does one do on their child’s 1 1/2th birthday? Well, for starters I sang half of the happy birthday song to him before I laid him down for his nap. I also gave him a one-armed hug. I went in for a high-five but stopped halfway. I only changed half of his diaper. (I’ll just let you think about that for a moment….)
Am I doing this right?
Realistically, I know that a half birthday isn’t cause for a huge celebration. But that’s not going to stop me from giving Crosby 100 extra kisses and “i love you’s” today. It’s also not going to stop me from taking 50 extra photos and saying “hello” to him a dozen more times in hopes that his sweet little voice will say “HEYYOW!” back to me. It’s not going to stop me from looking the other way when he feeds the dogs his banana, because it makes him laugh so hard. It’s not going to stop me from letting him take out and put on every single pair of shoes in my closet, even though he always trips in the heels AND it’ll take me forever to put them all away. It’s not going to stop me from tickling/kissing all his chins as much as possible because I know he won’t let me do that shiz forever. It’s also not going to stop me from writing this sappy blog post about my baby guy who is becoming more like a… boy guy… every single day.