… and then she was one

On Thursday, my baby girl turned one year old. 
I still can’t believe it. A year ago, I was in the hospital having her? A YEAR?
How can she be one? As I tell her all the time, she’s just brand-new … 

We threw a cupcake-themed family party for our little princess — to go with her cupcake-themed nursery — and it was everything it should have been: pink, pink, and more pink. 
(I’m still finding showers of silver glitter on every horizontal surface in the living room.)
Party aftermath

We’ll celebrate her birthday again in May, during a huge bash for our/their friends that she’ll share with her big brother, D (who’s turning three in June). So her actual birthday was just a small family gathering.

She got a dollhouse from us, a wooden airport set from her brother, babydolls from her grandmothers, a wooden cradle from her grandparents, and a slew of gorgeous, unbelievably cute clothes. (jeggings! heart-print jeans! #canwesharewardrobes?)

And you know what the best part was?

Her very first pigtails …

I swear, those pigtails represent everything truly DAUGHTERY about having a daughter. I felt like for the past 365 days, I’ve had a baby — a sweet one that wears pink a lot, sure, but just a “baby.” She didn’t seem very different from her older brother, honestly. For an entire year.

But when I saw her in those pigtails, my heart melted. And then my heart reformed and exploded in a shower of glitter and sparkly gems.

I saw painting her nails. And taking her shopping on girly mother-daughter dates. And passing on my collections of Babysitter’s Club books and Barbies.

She’s one, now.
She’s not a baby.
She’s a little, tiny, perfect girl.

Happy Birthday to my little daughter, my tiny Rosey-Posy. You make my heart feel things I never thought it could feel, and you will always be “brand-new” to me.


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