Not a Baby

I wake up around 3 AM to the sound of him screaming my name across the hall. I nudge Zach. "He is calling for you," he says. "Pleeeeease," I whimper half asleep.

I wake up around 6 AM, lets be real-it is 6:38, to a small head nudged into my rib cage and cold toes on my left shoulder. I shimmy out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom for a 3.5 minute shower (yes, I swear, I am clean by then-the water is scalding hot!). I grab my clothes using my iPhone flashlight, all the while still tiptoeing. I wake my 7 year old four times and dress in her room. Finally, after I am certain my 7 year old is ready to walk out the door, around 6:58, I scoop him out of bed. He yells Iwuuuuuzlayindown in a precious half asleep, angry voice. I pop his paci in, wrap him in a blanket, and I load him into the car. I drop Addison at the bus stop and head to Mimi Barbara's to drop him off. He sleeps the whole way there-because, you know, he didn't get much sleep last night in my bed. I kiss him goodbye and head to work. I apply my makeup in the car and don't take my fist luxurious, hot, delicious sip of coffee until I am at work at 8:00.

This morning, all of that was exactly the same. The only difference was that this morning, he was two. No longer a baby. Officially a toddler. Officially a kid. Head in rib cage, check. Feet on shoulder, check. Whining about being woken, check. 1 year old-not today. Today he is two. He is no longer a baby. I know, I said that already. But I have to keep saying it to believe it is true. See, two years is a long time, right? Wrong. Two years ago my daughter was still 5, which just so happens to be the age I still think she is. Which means, my mind works as if it is still two years ago. As in, in my mind, he was just born-today.

Lucas has been whatisthewordIamlookingforhere since he was born. When I spent the most amazing and trying and emotional first twelve weeks of his life with him in sweet delicious solitude, he cried-a lot. He cried when I changed him. He cried when I burped him. He cried when I put him in his swing. He cried when I ate. He cried when I tried to sleep. He didn't cry when he was nursing or sleeping. When I went back to work, I was in constant fear that all his needs weren't being met. "He needs to be held a whole lot of the time-as in, all the time," I'd told her. "He spits up a lot, as in, all his food," I'd told her. "Be sure he burps 3 times," I'd told her. Every second away from him in the beginning was impossible. I could finally breathe when I got there to pick him up. He will be OK now, I'd thought. I finally grew out of that.  A bit.

Now, he is 2. He is not a baby anymore. I don't know if I understand a life without a baby in it. Addison was not a baby for quite some time before Lucas came, I know. But now, for some reason, I feel like my life requires his being a baby. Well, more like-I am going to need him to still be my baby. My baby-he will never stop being that. But a baby - he is not. Soon he won't require a pacifier (god willing) at night. Soon, he won't hold my cheeks in his hands and nuzzle his nose against mine. Soon, he won't require my chest to fall asleep on. Soon, he will pronounce all his words correctly-and his sweet way of saying I love you won't be quite as sweet. Soon, he won't pitter patter in the hallway on his teeny little chubby feet. Today, he won't be one anymore. Soon, he won't wake up and scream across the hall. Soon, he will be in a big boy bed. Shit, tomorrow, he will be seven!

I am the luckiest mom in the world to call him mine. I love him with every.single.piece of my heart. I love him too much. Yes, that is a thing. Loving too much is a scary thing because it makes you worry beyond reason. It makes you care beyond responsibility. It makes your heart hurt with happiness. I look forward to every second and every moment of the next two years I get with this little man, and every single second of every single day after that.

Happy Birthday Little Man.

Daddy, Addison, and I love you too much. Always.

P.S.-of course I cried today.