I'm like, really really bad at this, guys! When I started this blog up, finally, after creating an account during my pregnancy, I had all the best intentions of recording and scrutinzing every little detail of life as a bloated, swollen, pregnant woman, and then of recording life as a puffy, chubby, no-longer-pregnant-but-now-responsible-for-a-freaking-tiny-fragile-life. I really was going to keep up with this. All the best intentions, damnit.
But apparently I suck at the whole "chronicling" these major life events. I wouldn't even show you Peyton's baby book, because I think maybe three whole pages of it are filled out.
So, here I am. It's March, it's 70 degrees outside today, and my baby will be nine months old tomorrow. I booked the location for her first birthday party yesterday. Party planning is officially underway and I get sad and weepy sometimes when I think about it, this little person we created who is crawling, and laughing, and smiling, and has been melting my heart every single day for the last nine months is going to be one whole freaking year old. And because it still remains to be seen if we will have another baby, I really feel like I should have been sucking up and documenting every last second.
Like seriously, guys, I took her out on our front porch yesterday and kids were getting off the bus after school. I pointed those kids out to her and told her one day she'll get to take a bus to school and naturally I cried because one day, not very soon, but soon enough, my baby will take a bus to school. And leave me behind to inhale bus fumes as it whisks her off to do whatever awesome thing it is that she'll do in school that day.
This is all not fair. Babies should be babies forever.