Twas the Night Before Griffin's Birthday

My last baby turns one tomorrow. With each of my children, I am always a little sad about their birthdays. It is such a cliche to talk about how fast they grow, but they do. They grow up before our eyes in a flash. But with Griffin's birthday approaching, I am feeling a little more melancholy than usual. He's my last baby. And it breaks my heart to see him leave babyhood behind and go stomping into toddlerhood.

You celebrate so many firsts with your children. Their first smiles, first steps, first words. I spent a lot of Griffin's first year mourning the last "firsts". The last first smile. The last first steps. The last first words. The last time I would snuggle with a baby under a blanket nursing in a room lit only by the moon outside. The last time I would feel my child's tiny fingers clinging to mine for the first time. The last time I would wake with a newborn cuddled into my arms fast asleep. And tomorrow, the last first birthday.

I wanted to spend some extra time loving Griffin up tonight as I put him to bed. I fed him his bottle, rocked him and sang softly to him. I had tears in my eyes as I held on tight to his fingers and held his loving gaze. I was in full on mushy mommy mode. Griffin finished his bottle, sat up in my lap and hit me in the face. He laughed and yelled, "Ouch" and then tried to do it all over again. I guess it was an appropriate response to my self induced mommy melancholy. My last first encounter with my toddler's sense of humor.