Number ONE

I am now the proud (crazy, chaotic, tired, frazzled, slightly alcoholic) mother of a one year old.

My sweet (demanding, crazy, high maintenance, monster) baby O celebrated his birthday last week.

I'm always amazed at some of my friends and family who have big celebrations for their little one - complete with gorgeous pictures, home made cakes, home made invitations, fancy meals, personalized t-shirts, etc.

Ours went more like this...

I decided not to have a party for him as I knew he wouldn't remember any of it and why waste my time on something he won't remember?  Then that mother of all emotions for mothers - GUILT - crept in a couple of days before his birthday and I decided to throw together a small shin dig for the little man.  I raced to Party City to grab a few decorations - only for pictures - and to my nearest Pick N Save for flowers, balloons, and a cake.  I did manage to throw together some chicken soup and salad for the attendees (grandparents and aunt and uncle) while the aforementioned monster, I mean, birthday boy, screamed and cried pulling at my legs.

The guests arrived, we threw some cake at Owen, attempted a few pictures, tore open some presents, put him to bed and then the party really began.  Happy birthday O - hope you liked it (and hope you don't remember it). :)

It actually went quite well (after O was in bed) and I enjoyed catching up with the family and getting to cuddle my sweet baby nephew (whose twin brother was being cuddled by another).  We got a few pictures (that will forever stay on my computer) for his scrapbook (that I will probably begin in about 20 years after I finish - I mean, start - one for his big sister, Maddie).

The decked out high chair for the birthday boy!

The birthday hat that was on his head approximately 1/16 of a second (glad your camera wasn't "processing", Dad!).  Seriously, how can anyone ever get their 1 year old to wear birthday hat?!?

Investigating his cupcake.  He didn't like it - so, no pictures of frosting all over his face.

A little happier entertaining the crowd prior to being forced to eat sweets.

I won't even bore you with the old line "where did the year go?" as I'm very happy to have crossed this milestone.   Last year was paradoxically an incredibly wonderful, horrendous year.  I'm glad to see it go.

Owen is a handful.  I'm not quite sure what happened in the last year to make him so high maintenance.

He's a screamer (I truly fear future temper tantrums).

He throws things (he has actually broken a sippy cup by throwing it so often and so hard on the floor.  Aren't those things indestructible?!?  They made it through my other two children.).

He's stubborn.  (I guess I should have had a clue about this when he refused to take a bottle at 5 months thwarting my plans of weaning.  Guess who won and who was breastfed until almost a year?)

He hits.

He still doesn't nap in the afternoon despite being very, very tired and despite by best efforts.  (Good God, please, please, please just let him nap!)

He causes his father to consider giving himself a vasectomy on a daily basis.  He's pretty much sealed the deal that he will be our last.

I just don't remember feeling this worn out and exhausted with the other two. Maybe I just forgot a whole lot during the 5 year gap between him and Maddie.  Maybe it's just that I'm five years older.  Maybe it's because this house is so much larger than our house was when Maddie or Alex was little.  Maybe I'm just dumber (case in point).

Or maybe the old cliche is just simply true - he's a boy.

If there is anything even remotely dangerous nearby, he'll find it.  Power cords, electrical sockets, poison, plastic bags, balloons, sharp knives are just a few of his favorite "toys".  I'm constantly on my toes alerted to new danger as he crawls through the house.   God help me once he starts to walk and then runs.   Changing his diaper is like trying to catch a greased pig squealing at the top of his lungs.  And he HATES getting dressed - I swear, based on his screams, one would think I was torturing him when I get him dressed in the morning.

The following pictures demonstrate some of his favorite activities.

Standing up and rocking - fast.  

Climbing (and playing on) the staircase. (Picture is blurry because he doesn't sit still.)

Crawling on the ground getting his clothes and hands filthy and screaming when you pick him up.

Desperately trying to break through the gate at the top of the stairs.

The first of what I assume will be many nose scrapes.  I threw this picture in for my Nashville friends as this is how he looked when we visited.  However, this one is due to parental neglect (falling asleep in the hotel bed assuming he was sleeping right next to me only to be awakened by a thud and a scream - oops.)

I have a lot of friends who have 3 boys (many of whom don't even drink!! How do they do it?!?).  I now have a new found respect for those saints.

Yes, he's a handful, but I LOVE HIM!!!  I'm often amazed at how quickly I can miss him.  I'll put him to bed after a long, exhausting day grateful for the respite, but anxious to do it all again the next day.   He's got me wrapped around his precious ten fingers and his two chubby thighs.  His grin can melt my heart.  His mouthy kisses weaken my knees.  I can't imagine my life without him.  He's a gift from God and I thank God for him everyday.

I mean, come on, how could you not love this face?

Happy first birthday my sweet baby O.  I love you to the moon and back.