Tomorrow the kid turns four years old. I can't help but think back to what was going on exactly four years ago. Right about now, I was 5 cm dilated and realizing the pain medication that was administered through my i.v. was not cutting the mustard. I would go on to request and receive a blessed epidural and after pushing for 30 minutes, our six-and-a-half pound girl emerged at 9:58am.
I'm amazed how she's changed in just four years. In less than the time it took me to graduate college, my kid has basically gone from a helpless loaf of bread to a fully-functioning human being. She's learned to walk, talk, count, and stop crapping her pants. She can draw, ride a tricycle, get her own snacks, brush her teeth, and dress herself. She loves playdough, the outdoors, and Scooby Doo.
She is made almost entirely of yogurt for the sheer amount of it she ingests.
She makes me laugh daily - like today, when we ran out of ice cream bars. Without missing a beat she asked in all seriousness, "Can I have some dog ice cream?' (we buy Frosty Paws, a canine ice cream treat for our dog).
She hates to have her hair brushed, and she eats meat so seldom it prompted my mother-in-law to ask me if our kid is a vegetarian. My reply? "No, she's three."
But she's not anymore - she's FOUR. Which, again, just blows my mind. For all the complaining I do over the challenge that is motherhood, I cannot be more proud to be this kid's mom.
Happy birthday, sweet girl.