oversharing at its finest

i don't think it's any secret that being a mama* is hard. and lord knows i've written about my own struggles a time or twenty. but no matter how much i sometimes wish i could do nothing but stare at a wall for seven sweet hours in a row after tackling one of huck's more impressive shows of defiance, there is nothing i have done in my life that comes close to filling my heart the way that being henry's mother has done.

on saturday, huck will turn one. he came into this world defining his own path, and every day since he's done his best to teach his type-a mother that plans really are just a loose outline of what could be a much better ride with a little bit more freedom to roam. so we roam these days, and it's still really hard - this mama thing - but i've got some great company to lean on. we (meaning i) mess up a lot, but we're doing our darndest to enjoy the ride. all of it. even the deep, muddy puddles and tire-shredding rocks.

henry is tough-as-leather determined when he is sure he's made up his mind. he's always been really talented at back arches, the kind that makes his head pop back onto any surface behind him - the soft forgiving kind, or not. but lately, once he's flipped his head back in disgust/agony/boredom, he'll twist himself up like an alligator to escape parental constraints. and in the second it takes him to rip his body from the embrace of his captor, he turns himself into a loose puddle of sorrow, crumpled on the ground with is face in his hands (literally) to mourn the dreadful events that brought him to his wits end. and in the next minute, he's on his hands and knees racing at full speed towards any and all forbidden electrical cords/toilet bowls/garbage cans/cupboards filled with toxins/etc. it's all a cyclical game of "what's henry going to do next?", and his parents are tied for dead-last!

he knows where his teeth are, and if he's in any kind of mood to humor you he'll point them right out on the spot. he likes to give high fives, big, open mouthed kisses to daddy and only the best kind of hugs for mommy. he feeds himself - no thank you, i don't need any help. and his bottle or cup are most often favored over any other kinds of sustenance. he hates his car seat (constricting!), loves his stroller (open air adventure!), and when witching hour (6:47pm) strikes - the bathtub is the only place he'll keep his cool until bed time, at 7:04.

he's all kinds of wonderful, and i could go on and on. but i won't. because we've got company coming in to help us celebrate our birthday boy this weekend, and i've got an apartment that needs to get cozy with some dusting spray and a vacuum cleaner before henry plows through the door to destroy e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g ;)

have a good one!

ps: he was a dinosaur for his daycare halloween party, and we dressed him back up to go out for sushi that night (hence the red "bib"). but that was the extent of his halloween adventures, because he's not even one yet, you guys! he fell asleep like a dinosaur angel on the way home from dinner and we had to peel his costume off of him while he slept once we were home. it was maybe one of my most precious recent memories.

*that first link, at the very top, is it! words stitched together in exactly the right combination of bitter truth and beautifully described solidarity. read it, fellow mamas (and then call me, because "lonely" is my middle name)!