The rule of thumb for a kid’s party guest lists is ‘Age +1’. Our formula goes something like this: ‘Age +10 +All the adults you can think of’. There. That should do it. Fortunately, not everyone on the guest list could make it, and we, therefore, didn’t look like complete hedonists. Well, except for the two pitchers of sangria. And the beer. And the two grey haired ladies standing over the sink eating the liquor-steeped fruit from the sangria. But other than that, it was your completely typical 1st birthday party. With tacos.

Although we were scheduled for rain, the skies miraculously parted, and I am left thinking that my children each have meteorological super-powers due to their ability to conjure perfect birthday party weather. But then, it’s not like it would have even occurred to this bunch that rain might have actually been something that would slow them down. Mostly, they seemed to enjoy eating fistfuls of refined sugar (Stella actually hid a secret stash of gummy fish under her pillow), dodging and weaving between all of the adults and playing on the behemoth, adjustable teeter-totter that Steve forged from a beam with the dimensions equal to that of a mid-sized car. (The quotable comment from this particular project being: “I am either building a teeter-totter or a trebuchet – I am not quite sure yet.”)

Us? Small-scale? Yeah, we don’t roll like that.

(click on image for full set)

Well Buddy, today you officially turn one!

I am excited, amazed, a little sad, but mostly just plain old proud that you, me, your dad and your sister have all made it through this year with appendages still attached and sanity within arm’s reach. There were some moments there when I really thought one of us was going to snap, then some miracle would occur: you would sleep through the night, your sister would extend a kind gesture, your father would ply me with liquor, Dore would call to offer a Stella-sleep-over. In every instance – just in the nick of time.

When people ask me about you (and they often do), I tend to hedge a little. You have put us through one of the most rigorous sleep boot camp programs this side of the Equator and it, therefore, is always the first thing that seems to come out of my mouth. But then, I am always quick to follow that up with a comment about how ultimately easy going and good-natured you are. And cute. Have I mentioned the cute? Oh God, where do I begin with the cute.

I had always thought that if I had a son, I would find myself not knowing what to do or how to relate. After all, my experiences to-date do not involve Y chromosomes. As it turns out, this was one of my more significant miscalculations. From the moment you were born, I felt an immediate and overwhelming closeness to you that can only be matched by how I felt when your sister was born. Except here you were; my son. All I could think was how lucky I was to get to experience it all over again with you, my one and only son. I am reminded of this on a daily basis when you give me a belly laugh, or use your I’m-talking-to-the-cat voice, or wave and say good-bye (A-Gah!). You make it so easy, little man.

Being that you won’t be reading this for a while, I feel it is my duty to take this time to inform you of a couple of things that you may find unbelievable later. The first thing is that you adore your sister. Yes, really. You will be appalled to know that one of your favorite pass times is to follow her around from room to room, having to endure her increasingly torturous tendencies, and be regularly told that you can’t play with your own toys. The one-sidedness of your relationship doesn’t seem to phase you in the least. You would follow her to the ends of the earth, and knowing her, she would most likely lead you there. Most recently, you made it clear that you are no longer interested in your standard-issue tippy cup, but rather insist that you have the kind with a straw…just like her. And when it comes to these kinds of things, you won’t take No for an answer.

Another couple of things that I think you may find interesting are your love of broccoli, your complete obsession with carrying around the remote control, and your borderline addictive behavior when it comes to loitering around the toilet – all things that I am sure you will thank me for bringing up during future pre-date interviews.

I guess what I am trying to say is this: This year was about so much more than just developmental milestones and reports on sleep and teething. It was about the four of us becoming a family, and realizing how much more fun, full and enriched our life is by you being part of it.

Happy Birthday, McGoo!
Love,
Mama