then and now

I keep thinking back to a year ago, when Oliver was brand new and tiny.  There are so many differences between him then and now.  Something about the first year of life is pretty incredible, with all the changes we go through in that time.  And there's a pretty big difference between one month old Oliver and 13 month old Oliver. I thought I'd mind more that he was growing up and turning into a toddler, but I actually just love this age.  He's so cute and fun and silly.  He enjoys playing games and making us laugh, and even when he doesn't sleep, he's always so cheerful and interested in the world.

A year ago, he basically slept all the time.  My mom actually got a bit concerned about this and at one point asked me if I thought he knew he could be awake and not eating, instead of just alternating between eating and sleeping 24 hours a day.  Now I look back and laugh, because shouldn't she have remembered what newborns are like?  And now eating and sleeping seem to be his two least favorite activities at the moment.  He'll do them, but he'd always prefer to be up and exploring.

I used to be covered in spit up, and I gave up on even changing my clothes when Oliver would spit up on me because it happened all the time.  I was always carrying a rag or two to wipe him down with, or to mop up the floor, especially if we had left the house.

Although, to be honest, a year ago, I was still getting used to leaving the house with him.  Now, he get that full-body wriggle of excitement when we go to the door, because outside is his favorite place.  It's going to be rough once the freezing cold and snow hits, because he has learned how to point, and makes a beeline for the door to tell me that he wants to go outside, please, right now.

Now I spend my days wiping down his high chair, and wiping sticky fingerprints off windows and doors and my shoulder.  He's still getting the hang of swallowing all his food, so even when he's put plenty into his mouth, he stores it in his cheeks for hours.  So that is my life right now, sticky hands and slobber, wiping his nose from the near-constant cold he keeps catching, holding his hand as we walk outside, pushing him in the swings over and over, watching him start to play with toys and enjoy books.  Wiping down his highchair.  Cleaning up toys and building him towers, so he can knock them over again and dump out his box of toys (because that is the best bit, isn't it?)

Last year, he was a tiny little thing that I carried with my everywhere I went.  I'd sort of do my own thing, meeting friends or reading books or watching Netflix, and he would sleep through 90 per cent of it.  Now, my days revolve around him: his nap schedule, walks to the park, reading books together, playing with toys, feeding him.  It's true that it doesn't really get easier (and probably big kids are harder than babies or toddlers), but it really gets so much better (and I say that as a baby person who loved having a newborn).  My husband especially comments continually on how much fun Oliver is now.  I mean, I used to spend my entire day cuddling him, but now he can cuddle me back, and that's worth all the sticky fingers and messy diapers and cold trips outside in the world.