She is One

Bronwen Eliza is one.  It happened when I wasn't looking, when I wasn't ready, in the middle of a busy week. It happened without fanfare, with little celebration, but with much, much sentimental reflection.

She is one. And my heart breaks a little knowing that I will never have a child under the age of one again. Measuring age in weeks and months is over. She is one.

She is one and full of beans.  Into everything.  Crawling and yammering and giggling and singing and cooing.  She says Mama and Papa and Yayayayayayaya!

She is one. My final baby is barely a baby anymore.  She stands on her own.  She cruises.  She walks with assistance. She commands a room.

She eats indiscriminately: all fruits, vegetables, protein sources, snacks, anything you put on her tray, as well as books, paper, toys, dolls, dog toys, shoes, keys, dirt, sand, rocks, dog hair, clothing, binkies, stuffed animals, playing cards, hair things, stickers, blocks.  She has six teeth.  Three on top, three on the bottom.

She claps her hands.  She points at things.  She bats her arms to say "hi" or to mean "gimme."  She may or may not have socked the rector in the nose.  She makes the sweetest, lightest singing noises you have ever heard.

She has a crazy, deep, chortling laugh, just like Jillson had. A real belly laugh.

She is fiercely independent already (Lord help us all), unless she wants to go somewhere on her feet or unless she is hungry.  Then she crawls over and climbs up my leg, patting my knee until I do her bidding. 

Do not stand in the way of this girl and her food.  She growls.

She is an amazing and self-assured member of this crazy clan.  She rolls with it all.

In spite of her independence, her choice is often to be wherever her sisters are.

Did I mention that she loves water?  She will play in the bath, the ocean, the pool, the sink, a puddle for hours.

She is trusting and laid back.  A good sleeper.  A snuggler when exhausted or ill.  She gives funny, lean-in, head-only snuggles at all other times, a sort of reassuring pressing of temple to temple, or cheek to cheek, letting the full weight of her head meld into mine.

She is adored by her biggies.

Sweet Bronwen Eliza, I love you beyond all measure, beyond reason, beyond explanation.  Like your sisters, you are a piece of my heart. I can't wait to see what you'll become.  

You are one.  And you are on your way.  

I love you tremendously.

xoxo Mommy