My little angel turned 14 months the other day – and I’d like to pause for a moment and reflect on all that has transpired since we celebrated turning one.
It seems as if it were five minutes ago that my daughter was born, and about two minutes since the days of cradling her in my arms and watching her sleep peacefully in her swing.
The one-year mark came about so quickly that I almost forgot to take a pause and reflect on all the changes that have come about since my daughter propelled herself out of infancy and into another stratosphere of growing, learning, loving … and exerting her toddler independence.
It’s true – I have loved motherhood more deeply than I have ever imagined. I have cherished each moment, become infatuated with each milestone and smile and learning experience. But if I had to sum up my feelings about toddler life, a stage I know I have only just recently entered, the expression would be:
But really – this whole time since someone sent the memo to my daughter that she has passed the innocent, cooperative, infant stage and started wreaking havoc on my home and the rate at which my hair turns gray, has felt like someone hit the target on the dunk tank – and I was the one on the plank.
Sure, I knew that once this princess was on two feet I’d need a bit a more energy.
Of course, I was aware of the rapidly-fluctuating emotions.
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