Yesterday, my Liam Lamb turned 11 months old. That's almost a whole year.
One year of love, cuddles, travel and adventure.
One year of sleepless nights, more nursing sessions than I can count, and even more tears (from both of us).
One year of baby clothes, most of which have now been folded away because they no longer fit.
One year of spit-up stained laundry.
One year of chubby baby hands grabbing at mama's hair.
One year of smothering stinky baby feet with countless kisses every day.
One year, but not yet. Just almost.
~ ~ ~
In the mean time, Lammy is walking like a pro. Sometimes he sleeps well, mostly he still doesn't.
He loves the playground, playing with the big kids, and he loves water most of all.
His favorite place to sit is the couch, because it makes him feel like a big boy.
He loves to roll around on the living room floor with me, and rest his wee head on pillows (or the dog) (or my tummy).
He gives the best, slobbery, toothy kisses any momma could ask for.
Congrats, baby.
I can't believe they let us leave the hospital with you, but here we are, eleven months later, still chugging a long. Momma loves you.
