I’m knee deep in writing lately, trying to meet deadlines and be productive and finish projects I’ve fallen so behind on due to- well, life.

But today I have to stop and reflect on one thing: my baby is now 11 months old. Next month he’ll be a year. How is that possible? I remember the morning I went in to have him with so much clarity it literally feels like yesterday. The first 3-4 months passed in such a haze of sleep deprivation, new mom worries, and emotional burnout that I hardly remember them.

So here I am, with a beautiful, hysterical, walking almost-toddler and I just feel overwhelmingly blessed to be his mommy.

That is all.