I hoped to reflect upon today’s event of personal note, my daughter’s first birthday. But the first impression I can summon up is a feeling of deep weariness. This, I suppose, is the common experience of parents. Raising an infant is exhausting. This does serve to illustrate the concept that the more rewarding a thing is the harder it is to achieve.
So, we’re marking a momentous year. Victoria Valentina blossomed from just under four pounds to the vicinity of twenty. She’s been walking for several months now. I spend an inordinate amount of time chasing her from room to room. Did I mention that I’m tired?
But what if I am? She’s got a carbon arc torch of a smile. She’s smart and engaging. She’s already shown a predilection for books that makes this bibliophile happy, even while her habit for bending and spindling pages makes me cringe.
So to hell with my whining. I’ll chase her around as long as needed and enjoy the race, enjoy the growth. No question this game is worth the candle.
But I could use a nap.