My Boy Likes to Party all the Time, Party all the Time, Party all the Tiii-iime!

Oh, you don’t remember Eddie Murphy’s album? Nevermind.

We made it. Not only is our son one, but we’ve even had a party to celebrate. It took much planning, several really, really good friends, my mom and a permit, but we even had a good time at the party.

So, we packed party stuff the night before. We planned on two shifts to take supplies and food to the park. The day of however, Husband gets antsy and wants to get there even earlier. So he takes one bin of supplies- (tablecloths, bottles of water, blankets, etc) with him to the park. Great.

I was worried about food. I didn’t want anything to spoil, so I would go at the last miute with the food. My mom, who is super awesome and a trroper, graciosly helped me cut up fruit for the fruit salad that morning, and helped me wrangle our new little toddler. So mom went with my vert good friend, and the baby’s Godmother to the park. They took a little bit of food, toys and other miscellaneous items. As soon as Mom left, the baby fell asleep. He’s wearing a onesie, a wet diaper (I was just about to change him.) and he passes out. Oh. Okay.

I can’t wake him up. He’s a beast when he’s sleepy. I needed a happy kid today, not the growling, thrahing tiger he’s been known to become when overtired. So I let him sleep. Manwhile, he wasn’t dressed, I still had to gather the candle, matches, sunglasses for Husband, shoes for me and the baby…

So he sleeps. Husband and I had been calling each other all afternoon, and when I told him our little friend was out like a light, he had very good advice. “Well, just put him down and relax awhile.” So I did. I gathered what I needed and then just kinda chilled. People I trusted were at the park setting up, my very good, kind friemds were on theri way to take me to the park, and my kid was sleeping so he’s be freash as a daisy for the party. I was like the kid from Mad Magazine, “What me worry.”

You know how life is sometimes so magnificet and works out unexpectedly? Well, my friend comes to get me, I’m about to load the car, and Scooba wakes up. Just like that. He wakes up happy and smiling. Yay. We leave. He’s happy in the car. Yay,

People arrive. They like the food. We’ve laid out blankets with toys on the grass and babies play with them. We have beach balls and bubbles going. A football is being thrown by some older party guests. Mingling is happening. Before I know it, it’s time for cake. I am sure Scooba will cry, but instead he is frantically grabbing for my boob. I try to convince him to wait. His actions indicate he is not one to negoeciate. Luckily, when the singing starts, he is distracted. He enjoys the singing and just looks around at the sea of faces. Then we blow out the candle. People eat cake, he eats boob. The picture of the kid with frosting smeared n his face? No go. We gave him some cake, but he just ate it. He’s much messier with yogurt.

We clean up. My mother0in-law and Mom really taking the lead there, thankfully. We figure out how we;re going to get everything back,(once againg getting by with a little help from our friends) and are home within 10 miutes. Our family comes back to the house to hang out for a while and we open presents. Scooba took a good nap and then played with some ribbon. He got a good haul which included some sorely needed bath toys. Woe betide the bather who bathes the baby without bath toys.

He’s happy, we’re happy, guests were happy. No huge incidents, kids LOVED the party bags and also the bubbles. It was amazing seeing people and feeling loved. Our son made it one whole year and we didn’t break him. Although, Husband threw him on the bed and I scolded him saying, “Great, you broke the baby.”

“Well, that sucks. He’s only got a one year warranty and that just expired.”

“Isn’t that always the way?”

It’s funny, cause now that he’s into everything, our triumphant “We did it!” attitude is quickly being replaced with, “Oh crap, he’s…”

And he bit me today. He bit me. Why? Because I flipped him off? Because I called him a mean name? Did I trip him? No. I wouldn’t let him play with scissors. My bad, son. No wonder you bit me, you did what you had to do. Bite the mother who. Feeds. You. Every. Day.

Year 2 has begun.


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