My little girl will be one tomorrow. I've survived the first year of motherhood and managed to end up with a healthy, happy almost-toddler.

She is growing like a weed. I keep having to put things higher in order to keep them out of her reach. She's about to outgrow the changing table. (To my husband's chagrin, there is no such thing as an extra-long changing table.) She knows what "no-no" or "don't touch" means and will obey it more times than not. She's learning to pick up her toys and put them in the bag, though she's just as likely to pull them back out again in the middle of the picking-up process

She has just learned to push the piano keys gently, one finger at a time. She is tall enough now to reach the keys when she's standing up at the piano. She grins when "Twinkle A" starts to play on my I-tunes. Tonight, she also grinned when I started saying her memory verses (see "Truth and Grace" entry) while she had her nighttime bottle.

I'm starting to have confidence that I will, with God's help, be able to teach her to love God, to read, and to play the piano. Those are three biggies on my list, the first one of course being the biggest. Other things I'm not so sure about. Will she learn from her socially awkward mother how to make friends? Will we manage to muddle through and learn the art of homemaking together, or will I have to enlist outside help to fill in the gaps? Can I possibly help her avoid the trap of wasting her youth longing for attention from boys?

Yes, I've survived the first year. Why do I get the feeling the first year was the easiest?