A year ago yesterday I left the house suspecting that I was going to be told I'd be induced, and I was right. There was something kind of nice about that hunch--I left the house after spending a happy morning with Paul, went downtown for my doctor's appointment, and was sent over to triage. Since this was my second time at this particular rodeo I took my time, getting lunch and magazines before admitting myself. The next morning I had the type of labor I'd only heard about--my epidural was so thorough that I had to be told when it was time to push because I couldn't feel the contractions (and believe me I did not mind that.)

James came out bawling and they put him on me and a part of me thought, "Oh, here this goes." But then he stopped crying right after they put him on me. Then Steve got some formula to give James his first bottle and I thought, "Oh, here this goes," expecting James to eat as pokily and reluctantly as Paul, but right out of the gate he started to eat. He has been an easygoing guy, by and large, ever since.

Paul wasn't a very difficult baby but I had a difficult time adjusting to motherhood. James, meanwhile, was a mostly-quite-easy baby, and by the time he came we were entrenched in parenthood. He was along for the ride from us from minute one, because that's just how the second baby is--he came to the grocery store with me the day after he was born, he came out to dinner with my writing group about a week after he was born, he tagged along with us to the pool and the beach all summer long. Around two months he started to smile and he has been very generous with the dimply smiles ever since. One time this winter Steve and I took James out to dinner with us while my brother and his boyfriend Derek took Paul to see the zoo lights. It probably didn't hurt that James was dressed like a fat little Christmas elf but he just happily worked on a heel of bread and smiled and flirted with everybody who walked by. As we were leaving a manager came by to tell me that we won "cutest baby" that night. I know that's nothing but I'd be lying if I didn't swell a little (and totally agree with him as well.)

What brings me the most joy, aside from James' good nature and chunky thighs, is how much he adores Paul. Paul was a little jealous after James came to live with us, but that eased up once Paul started going to preschool (which gave him new responsibilities and opportunities for socializing) and once James started paying attention. Nothing is as fascinating to James as his big brother, and naturally, Paul enjoys being someone's sun. Just the other night at dinner I relaxed my "no feet on the dinner table" rule because James was getting such a kick out of pulling Paul's socks off. Hearing those two little guys giggle together is my favorite sound.

If I were a little younger, richer, had more energy and could guarantee that every baby I had would be like James, I'd probably consider having one or two more but that's not how life works. We'll go out on a high note and enjoy how fortunate we were to be joined by such a happy-go-lucky, easygoing, loving baby. The last year really went by fast. Time flies when you're having fun.