I know my last post was all about Blaise. But my "baby" turning three necessitates another post.
Turning three in this house means a very silly turtle cake.
It also means turtle cake with possibly a little bit of, spit, after some enthusiatic candle blowing!
And it also means presents, which include a great swing for the backyard (I'll show you, I promise.)
As I was uploading the pictures from today, I looked over the pictures from his last birthday. I can't believe how much has changed in one year.
Actually, I can not believe how much has in the shortest and longest three years of my life.
Blaise was the happiest, chubbiest little baby I had ever seen. And I was completely enamored by the fact that he was all mine. I was able to spend six months home with him after he was born. Those six months postponed my medical school graduation, and led to me starting residency a year after my friends and classmates. But I wouldn't trade those six months for anything. In return, I had nearly another six months with him before residency started.
I'm sure that he won't remember that I took that time to be with him. He will remember the school years when I can't be there, when I'm taking frequent overnight call at the hospital, when I'm working 80+ hours a week, and I may miss birthdays, and holidays, and sporting events. But I will always remember it. And I will continue to do everything I can to make the most of every second we have.
Blaise took terrible twos to a whole new meaning. I've been asked to leave a store after Blaise was found licking the entire length of the store front window. I've had to apologize to fellow shoppers at the grocery store after they have been run over by a cart Blaise was maneuvering or hit in the head by an object he decided no longer belonged in the cart. Books, toys, entire pieces of furniture have met a painful and untimely death at Blaise's hands and mouth. We've had mood changes stronger and faster than anything previously witnessed. I've questioned my parenting skills and my sanity.
Through it all, Blaise has been so intensely cute that I get a painful heart squeeze nearly everytime I look at him. He greets me daily with a tight hug around the knees and a "You're my best friend!" He asks me to dance everytime I wear a skirt.
I don't think we are leaving the terribleness behind now that we've entered three. Not yet anyway. Blaise has taken to standing by my bedside at ungodly hours and crying. I can never figure out what he wants, as he rejects all offers of my bed, his bed, milk, cuddling, and stories. He eventually falls asleep on the floor next to me. He tattles incessantly on Roman.
But he is still potty trained. He is still happy and cuddly and cute.
And above all, he is still loved.