Before and...

I woke up this morning and realized that I'm thirty-nine and a half years old today. I know - I sound like I'm in pre-school, which incidentally, I also resemble when I boast my height as five six and three-quarters. I have a hard time believing I'm almost forty - except when I look in the mirror...or step on a scale...or try to climb a flight of stairs too quickly. Even though I've grown fatter, grayer, and slower through the years, on the inside I still feel like I'm about 13 to 25, occasionally 10 or 11 when I'm hanging out with Noah.

Amari, on the other hand, is just about to complete her first year. I remember when I would mark every week with a sentimental entry about how big or cute or challenging she was. Now I know I was only scratching the surface. Although the week-a-versaries have ceased to be celebrated, it's not for lack of wonder, pride, and awe. The more interesting Amari becomes (and the less she naps), the less I seem to write.

I spent the better part of the last two nights combining pictures of Amari from our two computers onto Carrie's laptop. I finished up just before midnight and found myself looking through the file titled November, 2009. There were pictures of Carrie and I walking around Lake Cleon, Carrie in her second day of labor, and I innocently naive of what that really means having her pose patiently while I set the self-timer or asked her to move left or right so I could get a better shot. Then there were pictures of Amari, precious and little, swaddled and sleeping, floating colorfully in clothes much too large. What an amazing year it has been.

To think, less than twelve months ago, our charming, fickle, demanding, delightful, personality-filled daughter was a six-pound eight ounce sleep-poop-eat-cry machine. Needless to say, much like tonight, I stayed up way too late.