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Today my little man turns four.  I’m about to burst into tears just typing that.  I’m not whatcha call super-sentimental, either.

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I looked back through a few photos to show you, and it is completely befuddling to me how on earth little Finny is still alive.  I think about how I felt four years ago, and it is laughable how unprepared we were.  We had no idea what we were doing.  We were such different people – namely we were actual people – and now we are full-fledged parents.  (I love these children to death, but I do miss being a person many times a day.)

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I think back on how worried I was about so many insignificant things; if he was crawling soon enough, when was he going to walk?  I had him enrolled in speech therapy at the local children’s hospital at the age of eighteen months…  We had just moved to Ohio at that point and had not gotten a new pediatrician.  He ended up attending exactly zero sessions; there was absolutely nothing wrong with him – when we did get a pediatrician a few weeks later, he told me Finn was perfectly normal.  His only problem was that he had an anxious, impatient mother.

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Of course you always know that your children are growing up.  But then you scroll through the thousands of images you so carefully recorded for posterity – every little milestone, in infinite minutia, and you notice how quickly the time passes.  When they reach one of those milestones, my heart aches with the loss of their little-ness and races at the thought of what lies ahead.  The first time I realized the speed of this forward motion was at the whiff of Finny’s tush after he started eating solid food.  Never before had I thought I might miss the smell of newborn-mustard poop, even if it was only because I prefered it over the stuff made of carrots and green beans.

Everything revolves around bodily fluids for me.

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Now he is four; a little over a year away from kindergarten and I mourn the loss of his tiny-ness.  Even if he did drive me bat-shit insane.  And still does.  Before Nathan and I had Finn, I made him promise that no matter how much we loved our kids, we would always love each other MORE.

I have a feeling neither one of us anticipated just how deep the little ones burrow into your heart.

Happy Birthday to you, my sweet little man.

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