Yesterday, my first baby officially turned 10. I have been a mother for a decade. A decade!
I still can't believe how much has changed in that time. Not only have I learned that there's no such thing as perfect parenting, I've also learned that my original thoughts on perfect parenting were flat out hysterical!
Plus, I no longer wear blue nail polish.
My first baby had strictly timed naps and bottles. My fourth baby slept under my shirt for 23 hours a day. My first baby had a perfectly coordinated, very expensive nursery. My fourth baby catches his z's wherever the heck he passes out. He doesn't even have an official "bedroom."
I may have been too anal retentive with J, and I assume he'll be forever affected by his test-pancake position, but I'm pretty sure I haven't broken him. Yet.
He's taken me on an incredible journey. One that's changed paths a million times. He's been the meaning in my life when the world was shitty, and he's been my biggest trial when everything "should have been" smooth. He has tested my patience, pushed my limits, expanded my knowledge, and fueled my determination. He has influenced who I am today more than I'll ever be able to influence him.
He is the Alex P. Keaton to my Elyse. Steven, Mallory, Jennifer, Andy and I wish him a very happy #10.
We love you, you weirdo!
Sha la la laa.
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