My alarm went off this morning at 4:58 I got up, went straight to my camera and up the stairs to Duke’s bed where I took his first birthday minute picture.
Then since I was up I thought I might as well make myself useful.
All morning I juxtaposed what I did against what I was doing a year earlier.
This year I was mixing a birthday cake. Last year I snuggled a warm, wet sugar lump of baby.
This year I licked a chocolatey whisk clean. Last year, surrounded by support-women I made my way on wobbly legs from the birthing tub to my bedroom while waiting for a stubborn placenta.
This year I hopped in the shower, rushing to hop out again before the cake finished baking. Last year I stepped in slow and careful. My midwife waited on the opposite side of the curtain while I washed up in case I lacked the strength to hold myself upright long enough to get clean.
Last year Moo was the first to venture into my room wide eyed and curious to meet her baby brother. This year she was first again, only this time she found me blow drying my hair rather than sitting in bed eating toast.
Last year Enzo crawled into my bed beside me for a snuggle and nearly sang with delight when I hugged him close “You don’t have a puff!” This year he wandered in to my room after Moo and announced that he was up before she was he just came down an sat on the sofa rather than come in to find me.
This year my Duke spent the morning dragging his blanket around and demanding the attention of his father. Last year he slept and snuggled delighted all with his soft fuzzy newborn-ness.
A year is not long,
but then again, it is.