You might not know, but I'm a pretty big deal: THE ONENESS

Happy birthday Brinnon you are 1 year old!

I suppose we could reflect back on the past year of events and give you a highlight reel of all of the many firsts B has accomplished, the bumps and bruises, the laughs, the realizations... but we don't really have time we are parents of a 1 year old. Please see the appendix (our past blog posts) for the synopsis.


Yes we live in the now of a fully mobile little girl who if you are not watching is probably chewing, sticking her finger in, or falling off something you don't want her to. It's great, she can't quite talk except for a few words, dada being her favorite (hmmm interesting), but she can express if she is in distress and you will know. So will the young couple who were sitting next to you in the restaurant talking about how cute their child would be... until you ran out of cheerios. You may think these things are a negative but on the contrary it is wonderful to see her come into her own with opinions and personality. The louder her screams get the bigger her smiles get. Mom can get her to laugh so big when she attacks her, now B is starting to attack back. It's that evolution that is so fun to be around; how she can watch-learn-do. The gaps of time between these steps are getting closer and closer.


Speaking of steps, B just can't get enough of them... until she's at the top.


mount stairs from Kelly on Vimeo.





So our little girl is 1. Or is it 12 months? I've always been confused by this. In "babyworld" babies are 2-4-6-8-10 months, fair enough. Then they reach the age of a recognized calendar year, the unit of which history is most commonly denoted, the year (1). Then it's back 12-14-16-18 months. Is this holiday, dare we say her only character that separates her from nothing (zero), a whimsical, divisible, 12 in a flurry of months we have seen fly by?

I say NO! She is 1. Brinnon is the prime number, a whole.

Granted I understand the need to separate the great monolith from the rest of the herd to identify all of her many changes and first times. Also, so dad does not try to put those footy pajamas on her that are in the bottom of the drawer when the rest are dirty.

But, I am 385 months old. I have no idea what that means and I will forget that once I close the calculator. Months are there for guidance and scheduling and to know when the next year is coming due. They are not the monumentous scores put on our life to show triumph and conquests of months past. These are years and Brinnon has succeeded her first. And as we all know, that's a pretty big deal.