What a difference a year makes...

A year ago on June 15th, we closed on both the sale of our condo and the purchase of our home. It was pelting rain all day, and one month old Adah and I met up with Paul at the title company. At that point, it was quite the feat that the girl and I were out on a solo outing, let alone that I was dressed in something other than pajamas or workout clothes. During the closing, Adah had a total diaper blowout and spit milk up everywhere, and I was a mess about the possibility of having to nurse her in public. Immediately following the closing, Paul went straight to the new house to begin demolition. I returned to the condo (which we were renting back from our buyers for another month), where Adah proceeded to spit up all night long, until finally in a hot mess of tears and hormones I called Paul, bawling, asking him to come home.

And so it began. The summer of life with a newborn and a new (old) house. For as much joy as we took in those few months, it was certainly one of the most stressful times in my life to date. I have no desire to relive packing, moving and living in a very unfinished remodel with a newborn. The fridge in the garage and showering at the gym and bickering over house projects didn't exactly bring out the best in me, in us, and we've joked about how the rest of the year has been recuperation from last summer. What a time it was.

So here we are, on the other side, one year post-closing. The house is coming into it's own - with everything now functional, the projects seem so much more manageable, and their aesthetic impact is obvious and exciting. We can now even start thinking about the exterior of the house, with landscaping well on it's way we're in the midst of putting up shutters (love them) and it all feels like a deep sigh of relief. I'm dreaming of a forthcoming before-after post in true Design Sponge style and it really feels like our home.

But things aren't just different with the house. The difference between a one month old and a thirteen month old - I can't hardly begin to explain. The other day at our caregiver and child playgroup the topic question was how your love has changed since your child's birth - and as I sat there and thought, and then as words came out of my mouth, I realized - I can love Adah better than ever now because I've also refound myself. After the beautiful but foggy, dazed, overwhelming months of newborn care and after just over a year of never sleeping fully through a night (thanks, A), my own autonomy and the chance to do things that feel outside of this new identity as not just Mariah but Mariah the Mom - it feels huge. Today I packed up gear and Adah spent the day out and about with me in rehearsals, prepping for my dance performance tomorrow, and I just kept marveling at where we've come - from the difficulty of getting out for one simple outing to now Adah "tagging along" all day to be a part of something that I love and loved long before I loved being her mother, it's pretty amazing. Somehow in the process of twelve short months she's gone from being my sweet babe to being my sidekick, sharing giggles and learning new tricks and taking in summer together. It's pretty glorious.

In light of all of this, of how quickly this crazy year sped past us in a blur, I am reminded to cherish each moment. Each time she rolls quickly away from me because she'd much rather play than get her diaper changed, each time she drops her sippy cup again off of her high chair, announcing "uh-oh!" and each time her entire body tremors at the sight of cheddar bunnies. Because before we know it, we'll be staring next June in the face, and I'll be writing posts about how I must have accidentally killed the perennials in the front yard during the long winter and with parenting stories from the toddler twos...