Daisy's birthday

Today Daisy is one year old. It's such a milestone that I feel I should have some profound things to say about that, or reflections on the past year, but it's so hard to express. Last night I kept flipping my photo album from the first newborn pictures to my recent Fourth of July pictures and marveling that this was the same child, with just one year's difference. The changes are astronomical. Hard to believe. Hard not to be extremely trite about it.

So, some brief and inadequate reflections:

During the first six months, which were so intense and hard, I thought I would never forget one second of it. I couldn't believe people who said it was all a bit hazy now. Not for me, I thought. It is all so incredibly intense, every second will be etched in my brain. Well, it turns out that I am much like everyone else. The details have definitely faded. And it makes sense: for her to have gone through so very much change, with so many different periods in between, how COULD I remember each distinct period? But it makes me sad that it's fading. It helps me understand why people are so eager to have a second baby. But if I had a second baby, it wouldn't be the same experience. It wouldn't be new and unprecedented, of course; and it also wouldn't be the same intense one-on-one that you have with a first baby.

It also seems to me that the first six months or so went by pretty slowly... I used to count the hours passing, some days, wondering just what to do with myself and the babe. But the second six months (roughly speaking) seem to have flown by. They are less well documented with photos and videotape, and it seems like I'm always struggling to keep up with my archiving.

I have loved it all, even the hard parts in a kind of bittersweet way, but I think I am one of those people who enjoys the process more as the baby gets older. Don't get me wrong--I am already deeply nostalgic for the infant days and I try so hard to recreate the moments with memory, feeling a terrible sense of loss when I can't get the exact sensations back. But, with a cooler head, I have to admit I am enjoying her more and more the older she gets. This moment, right now, of her being 12 months old, is probably the most fun I've had so far. I love the babbling and the great signs of personality and even temper I see from her now. She had a little fit yesterday at the top of the Lyon Street steps when I tried to take a bag of Cheerios away from her. It was a very minor tantrum (perhaps foreboding bigger ones to come), but it was interesting to watch.

Anyway, I am enjoying her more as she becomes more and more a person. But I still love the baby-ness of her--the fat little knees and nonsensical sentences, and being able to pinch her butt without her making me stop--and I'll miss it terribly when it's gone. (Does anyone else have an overpowering desire to pinch their baby in the butt? Gosh, I hope it's not just me. Mark and my mother say they don't feel like doing this, actually.)

I think that's all for now. Maybe I'll try to post a picture later.