My sister-in-law recently gave birth to her daughter. This marked the beginning of the tidal wave of babies about to descend upon our world. I have three friends due imminently and more within the next few months. But this birth of our new, beautiful niece marked the first person close to me that has had a baby since Cameron was born. I had one friend who had a baby very close to Cameron’s birth, but it was in that time of haze that I hope to never truly remember.

During all of the excitement and conversations with my sister-in-law and family, I flashback and am struck with an overwhelming sense of fatigue. Utter, to the bone, exhaustion. I think about the sleepless nights, the fumbling around with breast feeding trying to figure out what on earth is on your chest. Because while they’ve been there for awhile, when that milk comes in, it is as if they’ve never been there before. And all of a sudden you are expected to be perfect at manipulating these giant water balloons attached to your chest, occasionally (or every hour if you are lucky enough to have a Cameron) being asked to open the end of the water balloon in a controlled manner to let a little out, without spraying the world. I think it is a miracle Cameron wasn’t blinded in those early days.

Exhaustion.

I empathize with her. Deeply. I empathize with every friend I have who is about to enter into the amazing world of parenthood. Because it is amazing. But somehow I am being thrown back into the sheer and utter exhaustion of those early days.

Or perhaps it is just the current exhaustion catching up with me as I watch Cameron pull the safety socket plugs out of the sockets and put them in his mouth morphing them from safety item to choking item. Demonstrating to me that we actually paid money to bring more choking hazards into our house. Truly an impressive feat.

At least one of us is getting some rest…

It’s milestone time. Cameron is nine months tomorrow, Tuesday, the actual day he was born, and the OCD part of my brain is jumping up and down because of the perfect alignment. This is also my 100th post. I’ve been trying to write this post for a couple of weeks now, ever since I myself hit a milestone, entering into the third decade of my life.

To mark my entry into this new decade, my wonderful family banded together and got me a laptop, something I have been coveting for awhile, but figured was an impractical expense. I couldn’t wait to get on it and come up with some magnificent shiny, glittery post to celebrate 100. On TV shows they usually have huge improbable plot lines thick with famous guest stars. And while I’m sure I could come up with the improbable plot line, I don’t really know any famous guest stars.

This all turned out to be a moot point as apparently Cameron is hardwired for laptops. The moment I silently flipped it open, there was a slap, slap, slap, slap as he came shooting across the house to descend upon the computer. I had witnesses, the flipping open was silent. Yet the computer part of Cameron’s brain kicked in like sonar and he appeared from thin air. He has subsequently done this every time I touch the computer and it has gotten to the point where I either have to secretly hide in a closet in our house to use it or wait until he goes to bed. But by the time he goes to bed, I’m racing him to sleep.

So I sit here on our main computer, the laptop safely hidden away, and write my 100th post. And as I listen to Cameron slam our blinds against the window, I decided to post a photo essay of Cameron. True, unedited Cameron. Because while I post cute pictures and cuddly stories (have I ever posted a cuddly story?) that’s not my true baby.

My true baby who on a Southwest flight actually left claw marks in the airline seat.

My true baby who lets the blinds know on a daily basis who is and will always be boss.

My true baby who knows the difference between over and around, but always chooses over.

My true baby who decided that sitting in strollers is for losers.

My true baby who can break my heart with one tear.

My true baby who will take on the sun any day.

My true baby who decided a co-conspirator is a good thing to have.

My true baby who informed the doctor that her table paper was no match for him.

My true baby who has made the last nine months the most rewarding of my life.