December is a weird month.
I always get this expectant feeling, like something's about to happen, like I forgot some important detail, about now.
It's Nolan's fault.
He is my December baby, and I can't help but feel on the cusp of something big when this time of year rolls around...restlessness, coupled with the holidays; I'm a wreck.
What did I forget? Will I be able to pull it off, yet again? What do you mean, you need another gift?? Holy cow, do I smell burned cookies??!!
Big brown eyes follow my every move, and light up as he sidles up next to me, arms out for a hug. Wait a minute. Wasn't it just last week that these very arms were barely wrapping around my knees? And now I have to make sure not to knock my teeth out on his forehead as he embraces me?
I used to think it would suck to have a December birthday, because you know that once you are of a certain age, you are getting the Christmas/birthday gift combo. A birthday hard to remember amongst the hustle and bustle.
Yet now I have a different take on it. Each Christmas is special, as I take in the wonder of my growing eldest son.
Barney has given way to the Cartoon Network, and Oshkosh is b'gosh not in his closet.
No baby powder-talcum-freshness, not with Axe around.
Batman is now a boxer brief.
The baby is now the babysitter.
While he might change, I like to think I remain the same. Constant and present.