I can't believe it's already February. That means my baby will be one next month. ONE YEAR OLD. How did this happen? Wasn't she just born eight minutes ago? Wasn't I just sobbing uncontrollably after my csection? I still haven't recovered from that experience. Wasn't I just taking fourteen million pictures of her first bath? Now she's outgrown her baby tub so she sits in a laundry basket in the big tub and eats the shampoo bottle. Wasn't I just watching Christopher give her a bottle for the first time? This morning she ate pancakes for breakfast with the appetite of a teenage boy. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE AND HOW CAN I MAKE IT STOP. The only thing keeping me from going into deep, deep depression is planning her birthday party. I almost can't type the words "birthday party" without hyperventilating. It's bumblebee themed and naturally she'll wear her tiara because she's the queen bee. We've mailed an invitation to Prince George but he hasn't replied yet. We'd be happy to reschedule the party to accommodate any conflicts with his social calendar.
(Brief intermission. I hear some screeching from the crib.)
(Four hours, one lunch, two nursing sessions, a trip to Gap, a stop at Walgreens and I'm back.)
If we can't have new bows at least we have crowns.