I didn't forget her 11 month birthday.

I'm just kind of in denial. Because that means less than a month until she turns one year old and...it's gone way too fast.

I've become a total cliche. Every milestone, every new thing she does, every outfit she outgrows is utterly bittersweet. After months of worrying, stressing and obsessing that she wasn't doing what she should be at that age, now that she is on track, it's tough.

I'm surprised that I'm having a bit of a hard time with it. I love how she's growing. I love who she is becoming. I absolutely adore her personality. The three of us laugh all the time. All the time. We're goobers, and she's going to be one, too. Actually, she already is one. The child gets so excited so easily and laughs and snorts and snorts and snorts. I love it. She'll be complete outcast in kindergarten if she keeps it up, but for now, it's fabulous. Then Chris and I snort and that's kind of sad in it's own way, but it works for us.

I don't necessarily miss the days when she was itty bitty. Not saying that I didn't enjoy them and think they were the best age ever, just saying I don't long for them. What is bitter sweet is the realization of how fast it's going. How quickly it will continue to go. How it won't be long before she's holding her lunchbox and standing at the doorway of her kindergarten class, or long before she's telling me to fuck off under her breath (if she knows what's good for her it will ONLY be under her breath) and slamming her bedroom door (which will then be promptly removed to prove a point...and then we'll likely have to hire a contractor to put it back on because we suck at home repairs), or crying over a heart broken by some dirt bag skater boy with bleached hair (that is if she follows in her mom's footsteps...it will be a long time before we like anyone she brings home. Like her 30's.). The odd thing is I look forward to all of that. But yet I don't because it means less time. It means I'm getting older, too. And that sucks ass.

I don't know how much she weighs this month (although I think she's probably in the 474th percentile), or how tall she is. To me, she's huge. She's toddler-esque. She wears a wide range of clothing sizes today, anywhere from 9 months to 18 months (and that warrants a what the fuck? because there shouldn't be that big of a range, right?). She has more hair, on one side of her head. She hates when I put her hair in ponytails and she's know aware there is a clip in her hair and ohmygod it has to come out so she'll yank on it repeatedly. She still only has two teeth, which makes her look more like a baby than she is, and that makes me happy. Although a top one is threatening to make an appearance. She crawls extremely fast and it's her preferred mode of getting around. She pulls to a stand on anything and everything and cruises furniture and toys. Like her Leap Frog table. Which she has a tendency to face plant on, which is very stressful and traumatic for both of us when she injures herself. Today I'm calling her my mini Angelina Jolie because her little lip is poofed out from taking a header on that damn table yesterday. Which, I just want to add, caused blood from BOTH the nose and the lip and I thought maybe she should be airlifted to the nearest hospital but she recovered quickly. I'm still working on that recovery.

We love you more than anything, ever, baby love.