Of first birthdays

Okay, so I wrote this post last week and never published it. In the meantime, Lillian has turned one! She has been officially celebrated, present-ed, doctor-ed, etc. We had a wonderful weekend with family and friends celebrating our sweet girl.

(As I type this, Lillian is methodically emptying my purse--current favorite find, a partially-filled plastic water bottle--and Sullivan is just as methodically attempting to take said items from her hand. So if this is a bit jumbled, I blame them.)

This is a big week for our little family. Lilian, lover of dogs and mischief, is turning one. Now, before having a kid, I never understood the importance of the one-year old birthday party. "One? Big whoop. They're still just babies." But now I see that celebrating the first birthday has less to do with the child and more to do with the parents--"we've kept a tiny, irrational and helpless being alive for 365 whole days!" Of course it is slightly sentimental, too. As I plan her party, I imagine her planning parties with me as she turns 4, 6, 12, 19, 32...I remember dark nights (ha, no pun intended) from those first few months when I couldn't imagine surviving until her first birthday. I remember on night #11 or so passionately declaring to Thomas that we were done having kids. (Yeah, I do really well with lack of sleep. I don't get crazy or dramatic or anything.)

And this week I'm excited to celebrate Lillian. To get excited about who she already is, who we imagine her becoming, dreaming about what the Lord has planned for her life. I'm not overly sad to say goodbye to the baby stage. Seeing this 2.5 foot tall little person walk, and hearing her babble incessantly, and watching her explore the world around her is (in my book) infinitely more fun than all the little snuggles and moments of babyhood. I love watching her point at Sullivan and say "dog!" as she slides down his haunches.

Yes, my baby looks like Winston Churchill these days

Check out those chins! She is definitely in what my dad refers to as "the Winston Churchill phase" of babyhood. Still completely precious though.

good ole Winston:
"We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender..."

Good stuff.

Also, that smile gets me. Every time. I would stand on my head singing Christmas Shoes (the WORST Christmas song in the history of Christmas songs) if it made her smile.