and now we have come to the season of 'lasts.'
That may sound sad, and in some ways it is. I cry a bit inside (and sometimes outside) when I realize I won't get to see another of our babies crawl the first time, or take their first steps, or make that funny stink-face when they eat their first bite of mushy baby food.
These milestones that made my heart burn with mama pride and awe at the growth of our babes and thankfulness that I got to see them all happen...well, they will become fuzzy and fade with each new season of parenthood. So I write these blog posts, and set photographs to music that makes my cheesy mama heart swell, as a way to remember as much as I can.
We survived our 'last first year' of parenthood. The night wakings and the teeth popping through at inopportune times (like when you move to a new country.) The overwhelm of having an infant and two other small, spirited, loud children. 'Survival mode' took on a whole new meaning with the addition of a third babe.
With my first baby I was always stressed I was doing something wrong, and constantly had my nose in a parenting book during nap times. I was completely clueless, and when I look back on it I can't even believe how easy Cormac was in reality. (I mean, there was just one of him!)
With Finola I was so much calmer -- in my sweet spot of parenting. I put into practice all I had just learned with Cormac, and though not without its challenges, life was pretty grand.
Then Whit came along and I morphed quickly into "hot mess mama" - surviving on coffee and easy dinners, hustling to keep up with three babes, plus my own interests, and the house, and basically never getting anything done. It's a season, though, and albeit a super hard one I am just trying to breathe and enjoy and meet each unique kiddo where they are...and give myself grace.
Whit's first birthday was unlike the other two we've celebrated -- just a tiny celebration at our home with our little fam plus the happy addition of Mimi visiting from the US. We ate cupcakes I definitely didn't bake, and blew bubbles, and Whit loved all the balloons strewn everywhere. It was simple and just perfect for this stage of our lives.
A bit about Whit...
My clingiest baby. A definite mama's boy. Doused in oils since day one. He's had to go with the flow this year, enduring a lot of travel, changes, and of course the noise and lack of personal space from his raucous older sibs. He is also my skinniest babe, with barely any rolls...and no hair! (I was also a very bald babe, so I think there is hope!) As far as teething, he started popping teeth the quickest...and somehow he has been blessed with his two-year-old molars already. I breastfed him the longest...partly because I knew it was my last chance to do it. I also probably let him get away with the most...I mean, he is, truly, the baby of the fam. Our last.
Here are some of my favorite photographs from your first year of life, sweet Whitty P...
