I’m pretty sure this is a milestone

It’s a big day today, y’all. Today, I’m a proud momma because my little girl turns one.

Yeah, ok, so we’ve all turned one at some point and it wasn’t a big deal like inventing a cure for cancer or going to the moon. Except it’s a big deal for me.

Did you know that statistically, once they’ve made it past the first year, they’re more likely to survive into adulthood? I can finally heave a sigh of relief and not worry that I’m going to accidentally press her brains in if I hold her too tight, or have to rush into the room every 5 minutes to check if she’s breathing while sleeping face down. I’ve realized that as a mother, I never stop worrying. Ever. But after the first year, they’re less fragile and I get to worry about other stuff like how to make them eat vegetables, or anything else that is not yoghurt. Yay me, I guess.

This time last year, I was screaming bloody murder in the delivery ward, thinking that nothing could possibly be worse than childbirth. Turns out, childbirth was the easiest part after all. The first year of baby girl’s life, it was all about cleaning poop, ultrasonic shrieks, breastfeeding, whining about poop and shrieks and breastfeeding, and so on.

But now that I’ve made it past the first year and I’m standing on the other side, with two toddlers in tow, it’s almost surreal. I can now offer sagely advice to sleep-deprived new moms who look just about ready to eat their babies and say irritating things like “it’s going to get better, just hang in there.”

***

As always, here’s a letter to my sweet little muffin, whom I love more than I thought was possible.

Baby girl,

Happy first birthday. You woke up this morning with your jammies scrunched up and your hair all messy and sleep lines on your little cheeks and all I could think of was how thankful I am to be your mom. You know how I’m supposed to be crazy about you because I’m your momma? Truth is, if you were someone else’s baby girl, I would have been totally jealous and I would have formulated an elaborate plan to abduct you because you are that awesome.

In the past 3 months, you’ve developed a real personality, wagging your finger and shrieking at Tru when your’re upset. You’ve learnt to be affectionate, snuggling and cuddling and nuzzling her head everywhere. I love the way you hold on to me extra tight when you’re shy. I love how you sing so terribly and bob your head like a geek and do that trademark herky jerky hand flail when you hear Lady Gaga. I love your toothy, girly grin that turns me into mush and best of all, I love the way you make me feel like a rockstar. Every. single. day.

While we’re on the topic of my infinite wisdom, here’s the thing. I know we’re probably not going to have it easy all the time, especially when you start to turn into an angsty teen and read the entire twilight saga and look all nonchalant.

Mostly because much as I want to be your girlfriend, I have to first be your mom, which means I’ll be uncool by default.  I’ll be invading your privacy because you’re too important for me to not care. I’ll always err on the side of caution and tell you all the stuff you’re not supposed to do because I’ve sort of done them before and gotten messed up in the process. I’ll always be overly protective and watch out for you even when you think that you don’t need me to. Also, I’ll be making snide comments about sullen teenage vampires because, well, it’s like they’re asking for it.

But after I do my mom thing, I’ll try to be cool so I can do the girlfriend thing. I’ll be here when you make a mess that’s too big to clean up on your own. I’ll always have ice-cream and sappy dramas on hand when you get your heart broken. I’ll  be on your side no matter what and I’ll always think that you’re the best kid in the world. Because you really are.

Have a good one today, sweetheart.

Love,

Momma