My (First) Baby

Last weekend Adam was at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. To celebrate, Mike and I cleaned the house, painted Adam’s new dresser, and organized the boys’ rooms. We really wanted to get Adam into his room as soon as possible so there’s minimal change in the months leading up to baby Tater’s arrival.

In all of the organizing and cleaning, I found this impossibly tiny hospital bracelet.

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Like, impossibly tiny. Not only is this thing smaller than I ever remembered, but it’s not cut because it slipped off of Adam’s wrist before we could get to it. His hand was smaller than this tiny wristband.

This kid is so not a baby anymore. It takes finding things like this to remind me that he’s gained 15 pounds and over a foot in height since he was born. He definitely doesn’t fit into the 0-3 month clothes we just pulled out of the garage, and there’s no bottle or binkie to continue the illusion that he was just born yesterday. “Mama down peese” is his request of choice when he wants me to get on the floor and play cars with him. “Up. Cook.” when he wants to make dinner with me. And so many more that I can’t even keep up with the words coming out of his face.

We were even able to put him into his new room this week and it wasn’t even a thing. Adam was just like, okay cool this is my room now. No big thing.

This week he started sleeping for more than half the day. Then he got a slight cough that today erupted into congestion and a fever and a cough. Despite being miserable, Adam’s personality is still there. He wants to read and play and go outside as much as possible, stuffy nose be damned.

There is that time, though, when my first baby needs to get on my lap with Bear and Little Bear and cuddle the crap out of me, and I’m so there.

Because my first baby is still my baby and always will be.

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