One

One year ago today, my darling Genevieve was born.

We both had a big day.

Obligatory "hit by a freight train" photo

And, while I wasn't pleased that Andrew wanted to take pictures with me in them after all that, in retrospect, I'm really glad that he did.

Even from the first moments, I was learning how to be a Mom. I'm just so amazed that we started with this:

which turned into this:

First ultrasound!

who grew to this:

It's a girl!

and was born, utter perfection. From the moment I held her, I loved her more than I ever thought was possible.

6lbs 11 oz, 19" long. Birth story here.

In a year, my darling girl has gone from a vulnerable, tiny, snuggly niblet:

I marvel at her tiny-ness

To my fearless, funny, independent, big girl:

Are you going to take pictures, or chase me, Mama?

The world is hers to explore, touch, and (sometimes) taste. But as far as she's concerned? It's all there, and she's busybusybusy doing it.

Investigating leaves at the park. Sweater by Auntie Helen.

I know this is only the beginning of things to come, and Andrew and I are happy that she wants us along for the ride. She'll grab our hands, and it's OFF we go! 

Walking with Dada

We still snuggle, but it's not like it was when she was wee. Now she'll grab a book to read, bring it to me, and we'll read in the glider. Today's selection was The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Rockin' and readin'

I treasure the moments when she snuggles up for comfort, plants a wet kiss on my cheek, or gives a delighted squeal when she turns a corner - usually dragging Mom or Andrew behind her - and sees me.

I love when she shares her food with us. I love that she laughs when we laugh. I even love her fake laugh, because I know that she's realized that laughing feels good and she wants to keep the good times coming. I love her fake sneezes, and her "cute face"- the one that Mom taught her to do.

The "cute face" in action

I love the happy booty dance she does when she hears a song she likes. I love that peek-a-boo is endlessly entertaining for both of us. I love pretending she has stinky feet because it makes her laugh. I love singing silly lyrics to popular songs while I change her diaper. (You don't even want to know what I've done to Gangnam Style. No pop song is safe.)

I love pretending to be a dinosaur - a game invented by Mom, verbed "Rexing" by Auntie Laura - because Genevieve squeals in that wonderful, safe, delighted, kind of scared.

I love seeing her change from day-to-day. There are days where she's Mom's MiniMe, days where she's all Andrew, and days where she's all DangerMouse. I love seeing flashes of all of us in her.

Even the hard times have their silver linings; I've hummed "You Are My Sunshine" endlessly, kissed bumps from falls, and rocked and nursed her back to sleep a million times over. I still find her baby smell intoxicating, and I just breathe her in while she snoozes in my arms. 

The birthday mouse, flanked by GrandmaDahling and UnkieSam

Happy birthday, Genevieve. You are the mouse to my cookie.