On the Day He Was Born

So it’s Little One’s birthday today. His first birthday. Oy vey.

This starts the landslide. In other words, it won’t be long before I will be referring to anecdotes from his life with the phrase “when he was little”. It means we’re closer to school days. The prom. Graduation. His wedding.

Shit, he’s only 12 months old. I’m doing that thing where I get completely carried away with stuff. Again. But seriously, why is it that when you want time to fly, it drags on and on, yet when things are great, it passes with the blink of an eye? Take the Big One, for example. I love the kid. I do. But his baby days sucked to no end. Colic, sleep deprivation, and reflux that had both the hubster and I reeking of baby puke for the entire first year. Everyday was a challenge and I swear if I didn’t love him so much, he wouldn’t have made it. But the Little One? Holy shit! How different could two kids from the same gene pool be? Little One is the easiest baby know to man. Make sure he’s fed. That’s all he seems to care about. He could be sitting in a pile of shit and you wouldn’t know it because A) his shit really does not stink and B) he couldn’t care less. We had two days where he adjusted to being, you know, out here. Then after that, the kid slept through the night. Every single night. As a matter if fact, it is really a good thing he was the last one and there is such a huge age gap between him and the Big One, because this one would have made me want to keep spittin’ ’em out.

So for the first time ever, I have nothing to bitch about on this topic.

Happy Birthday to him!

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