Easton's First Birthday
September 7th, 2013
3:41 a.m.
8 lbs 10 oz
21 in.
These facts were freshly added to my memory +365 days ago. Let me clarify, that was +365 blink-of-an-eye days. The type that seem to come and go before I ever catch up on my sleep. We celebrated the miracle that the three of us survived this first year with cake, balloons, and because we are American, some football. Friends and family joined us on a sunny day at the Monmouth City Park and together we sang Happy Birthday to my little booger face.
If I were a more serious blogger, I would have an artsy picture collage illustrating the celebration here. In it, we would all look clean, happy yet semi-serious and dressed in a modernly vintage fashion. There would be scarves, tall boots, hats, bow ties and perhaps a railroad or rusty truck in the background.
Sorry, it's just not happening.
But, I can warm the hearts of those home-made everything-clean house-home-school and still have time to blog regularly moms out there, by pointing out that I did make Little E a healthy smash cake, all on my own! *Self high-five*
For no ones benefit but my own, I would now like to recount the highlights thus far in my career as a mother:
- One time I drew a mustache on Easton's face while he was napping
- I secretly use a purple butterfly clip to keep his hair out of his eyes when Cody is at work
- I posted an Instagram video for the world to see of the first time he dropped a dooky in the kiddie pool
- One time I ran out of diapers and had to tape a puppy pad around his middle to get home
- I have longboarded while pushing him in the stroller to Independence and back
- I taught Easton to respond to, "What does Dada say?" with a fart noise
Top three splat moments (for memories sake):
- Projectile throw-up into Grandpas slipper
- Cody gets pooped on at the movie theater
- The Poo-puddle under Tia's bouncer
At this time:
Little E is walking and climbing, everywhere. He says Dada, Turtle and Dog, but laughs when I ask him to say Mama. Thanks a lot kid.
Although people have begun to assume he is a girl, I cannot bring myself to cut his hair. That one blond curl in the middle of his forehead just melts my heart like a piece of cheese forgotten in the car-seat.
He sleeps through the night beautifully, and I would be well rested if I didn't choose to stay up watching 'How I Met Your Mother' with Cody each night. But it is just so legend...wait for it...dairy.
It warms my heart that Easton loves to look through all of his books. The pride I have believing that reading to him has instilled a passion for literature overcomes my frustration of picking up the same pile of books seven times a day.
The first thing people comment on are his eyelashes, unless it is my in-laws, then the first comment is, "I think he's hungry."
Unfortunately, Easton loves cats. I pressure him to pull their tails and whiskers. Here is my reasoning: a little scratch now is totally worth not having to put up with a litter box later. -so far no such luck.
He can sign: More, Please, Food, Mom, Dad, Thank you, Bye-bye, and play Beethoven's symphony no. 5....with his eyes closed.
I love your witty writing style!
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