But somehow, somewhere, in the midst of all the tears and drama, I feel like I found my mothering footing. That "instinctual, no bullshit, take it or leave it, one way or another we are going to get out of this mess" ground. (At least for now, ask me again in 3 years.)
And that part was good.
And necessary.
It probably sounds weird, but in some ways this year really made me "Jack's mother." I mean it's easy to be a mother when they are cute and cuddly and squishy and just need diapers and milk. But when the shit really hits the fan (and it did - many, many more times than we talked about here this year), you have to dig deep, ya know?
I dug deeper than I thought I could and here I am on the other side. Calmer even. Letting go and going with the flow as much as I can.
So, here's to a year where my kid became a kid, and not my "baby" anymore:









(We've also started reading and writing, coloring in the lines, sharing, making friends all the time, talking to strangers, riding a bike, bowling, playing tee-ball, learning manners, using the potty, dressing yourself, going to the movies, and much, much more.)