A year ago ...
The Lad wasn't even crawling yet and The Boy wasn't potty-trained. (I wasn't sure he'd be potty-trained within the year.)
The Lad still was nursing, but was clamoring for our food.
The Boy was handing out tokens of affection -- "I like you a lot, Momma" -- like they were candy.
I was a little sad we weren't going anywhere for our anniversary, but was looking forward to a real trip for our fifth anniversary.
At work, I still was a reporter, and I still had a daily date with the pump.
The Boy's favorite game was building castles to smash and crash with his blocks.
Beastie just wanted desperately to chase The Boy and The Cat. He couldn't crawl, but he rolled around the house, ingesting carpet fuzz as he went.
We are not going on a real trip for our anniversary, and even the local hotel stay had to be canceled because of the great Lice Infestation of '11.
The Boy has been potty-trained for nearly a year -- he declared freedom from diapers last July -- and it seems longer than that because it's such a non-issue and has been for months. (Lately, he wants to handle things after No. 2 alone, which gets a little problematic, but other than that, everything is drama-free.)
The Lad is running -- and jumping and climbing and riding tricycles and trying to skateboard (seriously! nearly gave me heart palpitations). In short, he is The Beast. He does all the things he wanted to do so badly last summer: harassing The Cat, bullying his brother, getting into all the toys as well as all the cupboards I don't want him in.
The Boy is reading books from memory and The Lad still likes to snuggle, both of which delight me to no end.
The Lad also still has deep, deep dimples.
The Boy just finished a preschool baseball program. The Lad eschews blocks for Matchbox cars with his brother.At home, I am, as imagined 12 months ago, a momma referee.
At work, I am an editor and finally settling into the position.
The one thing we are doing kinda-sorta for our anniversary is going to a journalism awards dinner on June 11. A story I wrote is up for an award, and the husband is insisting we go. I don't normally post my stories here or plug my work, but I am proud of this one -- not because of the award, but because it's an important (and scary) topic and I think it gave the parents a sense of purpose after their daughter's death. Since the story was published, they've been speaking to high school kids and even in front of our state legislature; their hope is to stop other teens and young adults from following in their daughter's footsteps. (It also was my last story as a reporter.)
We traded in the husband's ratty old Kia Rio for a Prius. I got a Kindle.
A year from now ...
Dare I dream that our sixth anniversary will be the one where the husband and I get to travel together again?
The Boy will be 4 and a half and The Lad, 2 and a half. I will have no more babies, just boys.
I imagine The Boy will be enrolled in some sort of baseball program.
We should be on the verge of being a diaper-free household. (Fingers crossed!)
The Boy will be just one year away from kindergarten; The Lad will be out of the baby rooms.
The boys will share a bedroom. (When The Lad graduates to a big boy bed, the plan is to put a bunk bed in his room and use The Boy's room as a playroom. We'll see how that works.)
I hope the husband and I are as happy in our jobs and friends as we are now.
*As previously, I want to note that this is stolen from Swistle.