I'm not entirely sure why the idea of Lily's first birthday is so daunting to me. We'll wake up, cuddle, and eat oatmeal just like we always have when she's one. I'll still be rewarded with peals of delight when I play peek-a-boo or I'm-gonna-get-yer-tootsies. Every day seems the same...except not really. It feels like just yesterday I was carefully handling my newborn's fragile neck. Today, I clapped and cheered as my almost-one-year-old walked the entire length of our hallway. Motherhood is such a strangely beautiful experience.
Anyway, I've progressed on her book. Measuring, re-measuring, gluing, and manipulating this little book has worn me out. Book-binding is such an incredible art form and I have grown to respect and appreciate those who do it regularly. What I thought would only take me an hour or two has added up to almost eight hours now, and I'm not even close to finished yet. Tomorrow, I'm sewing the pages into the cover. Hopefully I can finish before her birthday, because I intend to write my first birthday letter to her once she's asleep with her mouth hanging open. Cross your fingers that being one doesn't change the excellent sleeping habits she's got going on right now.