mentally preparing for next week. join my thoughts.

A year ago, I was 40 weeks pregnant.

I couldn't imagine any kind of life but a pregnant life. I jotted down interesting things to talk about in my pregnancy vlogs as they came to me and read my YouTube comments and e-mails all day. I waddled to work, plopped at my desk, googled any pregnancy questions I had and ordered greasy chicken tenders from the cafeteria twice in the afternoons. I sat in the middle of the plush, blue rug in Carter's nursery at night wondering what it would be like to actually use all the baby gear surrounding me. I scowled at my closet - my maternity jeans didn't fit anymore, and any possibility of dressing like a cute, pregnant girl was long gone. In the back of my mind, I knew somewhere along the line, I'd turned into one of those large pregnant ladies. I watched strangers ogling at my belly and wondered if they realized they were 1 second away from the borderline of flat out rudeness.

I hadn't thought much about the world of mom-ness that was about to hit me. I knew I was getting a baby, and that was the most I was focused on. I'd read other people's accounts of getting through pregnancy and the first year with a baby. But the concept of mom vs. toddler was so far away ... so far, in fact, I wasn't exactly sure it would ever really happen. I remember wanting a baby so badly, I couldn't stand it. I overlooked the fact that the baby I'd obsessed over holding would turn into a toddler. A kid. My kid.

So, here I am. A year later and Carter's on the verge of toddlerdom; next Wednesday he'll be one, and in a couple weeks he'll be a full fledged walker. I can't hide in the shade under the new mom umbrella anymore ... I have a feeling I should at least look like I know what I'm doing by now.

I spent 40 weeks researching the ins and outs of pregnancy and learning about infants. This past year was such a blur and so incredibly jam-packed that there wasn't time for analyzing the make up of a toddler. I feel blind. I feel unprepared. And yet here it comes. I have a slight feeling there will be tears on his birthday. Not baby tears, though. Mommy tears.