Happy Birthday

In the years that I was trying to get pregnant and while I was pregnant I would tell people how I am not a baby person. How, if I could, I would give birth to a toddler. And it was true. I found the newborn stage to be so overwhelming and they are so tiny and breakable and . . .

I couldn't wait for her to get a little older. We could play blocks! We could watch movies and eat snacks and go to the park! Oh it was going to be so great.

Two years ago I was recovering from a really long, really ridiculous MULTI-DAY labor. I was so tired and also stupid I didn't notice that my baby was as orange as a cheeto. I was having lunch and just staring into the hospital bassinet trying not to cry and laugh at the same time. Somehow unbelievably happy and yet totally freaking out at the same time. J and I went from a married couple that sure did like each other to a family that day.

In the following months I found I may not be a baby person but I was a My Baby person. My baby smelled so good after her bath and her arms were soft like puffy little twinkies. I wanted to swallow her whole. My baby curved into me just right and I rocked her for hours (I was bored as hell but I didn't think twice about doing it). My baby was good company at Target and on errands and I could feel her changing me and changing my whole life and I didn't care a bit.

I looked down today, and I don't want to scare y'all, but a two year old ate my baby.

She still smells good after her bath, and she is much cuter not orange. She has the best curls anywhere. She knows all of her colors and how to use a spoon and can put her baby night night. Her favorite color is blue, she loves her Grandma and Papa and Grams, she can count to two and build with blocks and goes apeshit over Curious George. I can't even pretend she is a baby anymore.

It is awesome and exciting and exactly how things should be. She is just who she always was but bigger and more able to pee on the toilet. I do find myself missing my baby. I want her to curl into my chest before she goes to sleep. I want to wrap her up like a baby burrito. I want her to not eat half of my steak. I miss her toothless grin and bald head and how she looked a lot like a can of butter flavored Cristco.

If you are out with your baby I might ask to hold her--I will sniff her head and take a hit of that fresh from the factory smell. Your baby is nice too. I don't really want her though, I just miss mine.

Happy Birthday Butter Bean.