A few days ago on Facebook I realized that in about six weeks Sam will be 1. It's seems impossible, but it also seems like it took forever. I've been fairly vocal about not loving the baby stage. The first year is just hard. Physically, mentally, emotionally... I've not been at my best this year. Plus, kids get more fun as they get older. As they can walk and talk and play there are so many more things we can do. Right now we basically drag Sam around to things fun for Ben and hope there's something to entertain Sam.
So while it does give me a little twinge of (sob) "My baby's growing up!" I'm pretty much glad to be (almost) done with the first year. I'm hoping Sam starts walking soon. He's gotten quite good at pulling himself up on furniture and he's starting to cruise (which is walking while holding onto something). Even when he does start walking I'll still have to carry him around when we go out, but hopefully I won't have to do it as much around the house. I'm already daydreaming about back pain-free days.
I think, like Ben, Sam might have a bit of his father's evil streak. For about a week and a half he was sleeping past 6:30am. Sometimes he'd even make it past 7! He did it just long enough to get our hopes up and then he decided to crush our spirits. He's started waking up in the middle of the night and not going back down for an hour or more. I think it's separation anxiety with a dash of teething for flavor. A bitter combo. Winter is always worse for sleeping, so I should've expected it, but blah. Blah is what I say to night waking. Because I can't think of anything else on account of being tired.