Yesterday, Sabrina turned one. (Or, as Dad put it, Tuesday was her last day of being zero.) I took her to get some pictures at Sears (coupon), and ended up walking through the baby clothes. When I saw those "newborn" clothes, I just got so nostalgic for the tiny Tiny one! It's hard to remember the lack of sleep and 45-minute nursing sessions (just to do it again an hour and 15 minutes later) and so easy to remember her tiny body, skinny little folded-up legs and the challenge of dressing and bathing this brand new human. Way back then Sabrina was an extension of me. A really needy extension, but still. When she slept for four hours I was delighted, and when she wouldn't wake up for a feeding I worried she would starve. She had yellow poop and her legs did not reach to the leg divider in the swing.
Now she is big (well, 2nd percentile in weight, but still). She is mobile, can climb into her stroller, stands up, screeches when she doesn't like something, has solid, disgusting poop, and can give hugs and kisses. She loves stuffed animals and sleeps with a death grip on her kitty. Sabrina likes to pull books off shelves and silverware out of the dishwasher. She loves books and hates the third hour of church. In other words, she is becoming her own person. I feel like celebrating, and crying.