Time flies

Well,  the time is finally here.  My baby is turning one year old tomorrow.  Wow, this time last year I was headed to the hospital in labor.  I remember my water breaking and me not being 100% positive.  I called the Family Birth Place and described it and they were like "Um, yeah, you should probably start thinking about getting over here. . ."  Nathan and Jake were grilling food.  I pulled Nathan to the side and let him know that my water broke, but that they could finish eating before we left for the hospital.  Funny, I don't recall experiencing any pain until I got the hospital.  And then, you better believe, I was epidural bound!  Long story short, my amazingly beautiful (no, really. . he was a good looking newborn) son was born at 7:07 A.M. on September 28, 2009.  The day that would change my life forever.  You can try and prepare for a baby.  You buy clothes and diapers and a crib.  You read books and practice breathing.  You take CPR and learn how to properly put on a diaper.  What you do not do, though, is prepare for the sheer amount of love you will have for this little person.  Nothing else matters.   You eat, sleep, breathe this beautiful baby.  Is he breathing?  Is he hot?  Is he cold?  Is he still breathing?  Should we try and feed him?  Do you think he needs to sleep more?  You sure he is breathing? You spend hours rocking and consoling and rocking some more. And making sure he is breathing.  He is so tiny.  A blob.  And then things start to change.  He smiles.  He laughs.  He sits up.  He eats solid food.  He crawls.  He walks.  He develops a mind of his own.  You realize he is okay without you some of the time.  You act like you don't realize that he is okay without you some of the time.
You go to put him to bed and he rolls over, grabs a blankie, closes his eyes, and goes to sleep.  No rocking.  No bedtime ritual involving a thousand kisses and trilling at his bird mobile.  You look over at him one day and he looks back at you and understands you.  He camps out by the door, waiting for it to open so he can escape to the big world on the other side. He pulls his hand away from yours and starts running down the sidewalk.  Without stopping or looking back to make sure you are still there.  He is running free. *bang* *splat!* He falls.  He looks around for you.  "ah" you think "he will come to me now" Nope, he gets back up and starts truckin' again. He is determined to be independent.  (He is determined to run me crazy)
Oh, how time flies.  My baby is turning one year old tomorrow.  And I think I just found my first grey hair.