One Year

A few weeks back our little one turned one year old.  She tasted her first chocolate, and she expressed a strong preference for frosting over cake (unfortunately, the first recipe I’ve made to suffer from whole wheat flour).  She’s got teeth, and we’re still happily nursing for most of her nutrition.  She cruises and crawls and cuddles even with our cats and dog.  The cats quickly learned that wherever LB was there was bound to be affection and games, and the dog is warming to her bit by bit.

I’ve discovered vast stores of energy and patience in myself, and cliched though it is, she blows my heart wide open with both her smile and strong will.  My love for my husband has grown too; I get teary thinking about our sweet little family.  Every time it feels like we’ve hit a groove, she throws us for a loop; she reminds us that each day is a blessing because who knows when you’ll get a good night of sleep.  I don’t really have anything to add to the parenting conversation, but I can’t stop blathering on and on about her.

So much to celebrate!

We have accomplished six and a half weeks of being a one car household.  I am so proud of my honey for bearing most of the sacrifice, although I am jealous of his thinning waistline.  A few days ago we even left the car parked in the carport all day long as I rode my much improved bicycle, and he took the bus.  Thanks so much to Asheville Recyclery; however, please do not be fooled by their website: they are located behind the French Broad Food Coop at 90 Biltmore Avenue in southern downtown Asheville.  Although my dry-rotted nubby mountain bike tires have been replaced by slicks, my saddle is the most uncomfortable piece of plastic in existence, and my gear shift has a mind of its own.  I will ameliorate these issues and become a brave bike commuter along the quite dangerous Highway 25A (aka Sweeten Creek Road).  Additionally, I will continue to ride the bus on the weekends to get downtown to grocery shop even if I do have difficulty reading the schedule correctly.  Due to my idiocy, I was able to walk a few miles from the North Asheville library to Greenlife lugging a backpack full of cognac, brandy, capilene and socks from the Ski Country tent sale, an Andrew Jackson biography, my grocery shopping bags, and a purse with a hand on the fucking cooler (for the groceries that were not to be).  I walked all that way (and believe me for someone as sedentary as myself that is one long fucking walk) because I cannot read the bus schedule, so I guess I paid a physical stupid tax today.  

The other reason for our celebration (which we will postpone due to us both suffering from nasty early season colds) is our second wedding anniversary.  I agree that two years of married bliss doesn’t really deserve a grandiose celebration, but come January it will be ten years we have shared.  I met this wonderful man on my birthday, and we shared French toast at IHOP after seeing some punk band at a bar that doesn’t exist because it either went out of business or someone drove their car through it.

I didn’t really think of myself as the marrying type, but I love this man.  I really wanted to stand in public and say it; I wanted to profess my undying love in front of our family and friends.  It was so wonderful, and I love being married to him.  I don’t feel that anything really changed from our cohabitating or living in sin days, but damn, I love calling him my husband.  

The only thing that sucks about being married is the constant query of where are the kids?  I will leave that for another post.