One Year With Paris

"It goes by so fast," parents say of babydom. I mean, in retrospect that's partly true: a year has passed and it does seem like yesterday that I was going into week 42 of pregnancy and doing everything in my power to avoid induction, but I'm just going to admit that in another way, the year has felt very full.

Like, every day of it.

Okay, let’s get real honest and say every hour of it.

After AGES of labor, my beautiful boy arrived in the world all ruddy and yelling at the top of his lungs (week 42 lungs so that’s really saying something) and I walked right out of the delivery room with him. No second room or meal for me, just some toast and we’re done I guess! That was a year ago but I feel like that’s how it’s been ever since. GO. It’s even the word he uses most often.


Paris flipped to his side in his sleep as a newborn, crawled at four months in Lieutenant Dan style, and took his first steps at eight. He picks up a soccer ball, throws it, runs over, and kicks it all in one motion like he’s attended some sort of training camp. I do not know what is going on here. Like, CAN WE SIT AND READ A BOOK FOR A SECOND PLEASE? He also doesn’t make a habit of napping. I’m talking wall-to-wall here.


If you follow my Instagram or his, you’ll know I think Paris is adorable, smart, and (we can all agree) has a great smile. He loves his Ga (grandpa) and family, has the cutest little voice for talking to animals, and is a great communicator which I’m very proud of. He plays with Petra and they are so sweet together I think my heart might burst, and I’m constantly wondering if I should tear my eyes away from them to get my phone so I can take some video. Sometimes I do, most times I just heart-eye emoji it in my head. And oh… when he hugs me, it makes my life!


But let’s just say I’ve aged accordingly.

Y’all, I’m TIRED. This guy likes to be chased so I chase him, tickled so I tickle him, sang to so I sing to him, and carried so I carry him. It’s an honour to do it and it’s FUN a lot of the time but not gonna lie, I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. Giving two 100%s is, by definition, impossible, so on the many occasions my children don’t want to do the same thing, mom guilt sets in that I’m giving less to one. I know, shake it off, but it ain’t that easy when you’ve committed to taking care of children at home. It’s my whole *thing*. I want to do it to the best of my ability because I feel privileged that I can, you know?

It has undoubtedly been a year.

To stay at home parents of very young kids who look at others in the same boat and wonder how they’re doing it: they’re probably wondering the same thing about you. I don’t have stats or survey results to back that up but as someone who gets asked often how I manage to do ____ or ____ while being a SAHM, the answer is “just barely”. I forgot to take my daughter to tap dance last week and I got an extension on my last Refined magazine article. Ugh. But someday I’ll remember the experiences fondly and the bags under my eyes will be gone. Time flies, remember? ;)


And to my little Paris: I love you, I’m so happy you’re here, and I know your determination will serve you well in life. May you also learn to enjoy a good nap now and then.


Life of the party, this guy.