It's been one hell-of-a crazy week! I've had a lot of major changes this past week, both professionally and personally. And I haven't had time to blog about it. Any of it. I've stepped outside of my comfort zone, and I've realized that my experiences are never as anxiety-producing as I expect them to be. 

I got a new job last week. I have an employer and a boss.  After leaving my old firm almost four years ago I didn’t think I would ever have another boss or another employer, other than myself, but … I also have a paycheck and for that I am grateful. A paycheck gives me the freedom to do more of what I love – spending time with Hudson and coaching new moms!  I couldn’t have created a more perfect “job”. I get to work from home, three days a week.  Yep, in my pjs!  And they pay me to do it. And, I've actually really enjoyed the work this past week. 

At first the thought of getting a job felt very shackles-on. It felt like I was letting myself down, after all, I told myself that I was “done” with jobs and bosses and employers. How could I go backwards and take another job after being self-employed? What would people think? 

Then I changed my thoughts. I realized that when I attach to my stories of what it means to have a job, and remain unwilling to question whether they are true, it’s my stubborn thoughts that cause me to go backwards, not the job.  It's always my thoughts about a circumstance that get me into a tangled mess.  

I also had my first overnight away from Hudson. Yes, I know, he's one-year-old, but the first night away was scary. Or at least I told myself that it would be. That it should be. I cried at the airport and didn't want to walk away from him. I just wanted to squeeze him and sneak him into my carry-on.  (At 26 pounds, he's sort of hard to sneak anywhere.)  I made it through security, mascara running down my cheek, but I was okay. I didn't have much time as I raced to the gate, stopping only to grab a couple of trash mags and a Starbucks. 

Once I was on my flight to Virginia (for the new job) I had some liquid confidence that helped me relax and enjoy my time without baby. I had to admit, it was kinda nice getting on a flight without schlepping all of the baby gear through security.  And it was kinda nice being able to sit quietly in my seat, drink my glass of wine and not worry that Hudson was too loud or ready to get down and cruise the aisle. 

Unfortunately, my 36 hour trip away landed me in Virginia at 2am and I had to be in the office by 6am, so there was no laying in bed ordering room-service while I watched a few chick-flicks. I was going, going, going non-stop. Which was good, in a way. It occupied my mind and made me forget that I hadn't squeezed Hudson's squishy little cheeks in almost 24 hours! 

My hurried schedule distracted me until I got to the airport and was waiting for my flight home, which was of course delayed (yep, Delta - it never disappoints. It's consistent. It's always delayed). And then about three hours before my flight time I got the dreaded call. The call from Hudson's nanny letting me know that (1) Hudson had a fever of 103.7; and (2) he had been on a milky-strike since the moment I left.  Big sigh.  Okay, I more than sighed, I broke down. I was 2,000+ miles away from my sick baby and another east coast storm had just arrived. Nobody knew if or when our flight would get out. I felt totally helpless and completely out of control. Must. Get. Home. Fast. 

I've noticed that when I feel out of control, I give up even more control. I lose all control of my thoughts and feelings, surrendering up all of it. But, when I start to accept that I don't have control - when I started to accept that I may not be home to kiss Hudson that evening, and I may not be home to see his sparkling morning eyes the next morning, I felt more relaxed about all of it. I was able to take a deep breath and know that everything would be okay.  And, it was. My flight left that night and I was snuggling my little Bug before midnight!  

 

Yep, another sappy baby Hudson blog post. Go figure. If you've been following my blog long enough you probably already expected today's post to be all about my little guy and me. 

My baby Hudson isn't so much of a "baby" anymore. Today at 5:20 p.m. he will be one year old. one. year. old. How did that happen?! I was just in labor. I was just pushing with all of my might. I was just holding my beautiful 7 pound, 12 ounce baby boy in my arms for the very first time. Just yesterday he cooed for the first time. Just yesterday he held up his own fragile little head for the first time. Just yesterday he sat up alone, and hopped across the floor on his belly. Just yesterday. Or at least it felt like it was just yesterday. 

The year has flown by. My "little little" is now a "big little".  I've watched him become a little boy, and such a charming little boy if I don't say so myself. 

This past year has truly been, as cliche' as it sounds, the very best year of my life. Without question, t-h-e best year.  It hasn't always been easy, nor has it always been joyful, but it has been perfect just exactly as is. 

I have grown so much not only as a mother, but as a person. As a woman. Being a first-time mommy has shown me where my "edge" is. I've learned just how little sleep I can actually survive on.  (Hopefully year two brings more sleep!)  And I do mean survive, because in the beginning that is what it was all about. Days, weeks are a blur. I remember snuggling with Hudson day-in-and-day-out for what seemed like months, though I'm certain it was likely only weeks. Maybe even days.

The biggest lesson I have learned this past year is that everything is temporary. It really is. For good and bad. Just when I thought Hudson was in a predictable routine, another milestone approached and the routine went bye-bye. And likewise, just about the time I thought I had no energy left for waking up every couple of hours, Hudson started sleeping six hours at a time. And then eight. And then ten ... It's all temporary. It gets easier and easier, just like everyone said that it would.

Another important lesson that I learned was that I am Hudson's parent, and although I'm new at this parenting stuff, I still know what's best for my baby. When Hudson was a newborn, Jamie and I struggled with making decisions for fear that we might make the wrong decision. As if there is ever truly a wrong or right decision anyway. I remember one of his friend's giving us the most sound advice when we asked him to make a decision for us. He told Jamie that part of parenting is making the tough decisions for our son and that we are the only people who know what's best for Hudson. That has really resonated with me over the past year as I've faced decision-making. It has been very empowering knowing (and I mean really knowing, believing) that I have all of the answers. I may fumble along the way, but I do the best that I know how.

This past year Hudson has learned how to roll over, crawl, walk, talk, giggle, snap his fingers, clap, wave, play peek-a-boo, give mommy raspberries, feed himself and give the best sloppy wet kisses you've ever had.  And he has six adorable pearly-whites. He's made snow-angels, body-sledded down a little mountain and he's been to Portland, Atlanta, Chicago and Hawaii.  We've had quite the active year and it's been an absolute ball. He really is my best buddy. 

I still remember the first second I laid eyes on my baby boy, as if it was just yesterday. On January 4, 2010, at 5:20 p.m. my whole world changed. Happy 1st Birthday, Hudson. You have no idea how much joy you bring to me each and every day. I love you so very much, and I can't wait to see what this next year has in store for us. 

It's been a while, I know. I've missed you and hopefully you've missed us - Hudson and me! 

I took an important break from blogging over the past few weeks. I spent time with my family and friends and I enjoyed a technology-free Christmas. I unplugged. It was nice. But, I'm ready to jump back in. 

From time-to-time I felt a little anxious.  I created plenty of "shoulds". I should be blogging. I should be reading other people's blogs. I should be capturing Hudson's first Christmas on my blog so that one day he can read about how lovely it was. Thankfully, I didn't listen to those "shoulds" and instead I gave Hudson all that he needed for Christmas - a mommy who was present. And boy was I ever present while he tore through the wrapping of his presents! 

A one-year-old doesn't really care about Santa (other than to tug on his nose and beard). A one-year-old doesn't really care about gifts under the tree, other than to push the box the gifts came in around the house. A one-year-old has no idea that Christmas is anything other than another day surrounded by people smothering him with love. 

Spending the holidays with a one-year-old definitely reminded me what Christmas is really about for me. Spending time with the people I care about the most. I hope you all enjoyed some special time with your most special people.