Dear Hooper,
My life is richer because you are in it.
Happy Birthday,
Mama
The Six Week Bean Spill
The six week checklist:
-Make announcement to parents: check.
-Nausea: check.
This past weekend was Hooper’s first birthday party. We figured since we would have the both sets of parents together, it would be a good time to share our news. I’m not sure what I expected with the lets take a picture and on the count of three say “Ashley’s pregnant” approach. Scratch that. I know exactly what I expected. I expected hips and hoorays. Explosions of excitement. Gayness. Disguises thrown up in the air. Chins dropped to the floor. Instead, we got this:
Why am I the only one with my chin anywhere near the floor? I mean look at everyone, still posing for the photo.
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
Starting to sink in…
Are you guys SERIOUS?!?
Enough of this picture posing stuff, let’s celebrate!
Sometimes big news just takes a minute to sink in.
Turns out they didn’t believe us. Thought we were kidding. So there you have it. Dumbfoundedness followed by wide-eyed, heads thrown back, chin to the floor elation. Classic.
And this new nausea? Classic as well.
First Birthday
A few months ago, our neighbors had a first birthday party. I think I’ve counted 10 people that live in that house. It’s a four bedroom house. Anyway, the party was complete with a DJ blasting mariache music into the wee hours of the night. They had a bouncer. The street was lined with cars. There was a keg. If I hadn’t peeked through the fence to see the pin the tail on the donkey, I would have wondered if someone had uprooted our home and transported it like Dorthey’s home on the Wizard of Oz to a college fraternity row. My sister was in town that weekend and was pretty bummed when the white noise maker, a closed door, AND ear plugs wouldn’t do the trick.
Hooper’s birthday is around the corner. Obviously it means nothing to him. He has a little birthday cake toy that plays the birthday song. It was his favorite toy for a while. He rocks back and forward when the song comes on and stares anticipatingly when the candles light up. And that about sums up his knowledge of what a birthday is.
The debate: Go big or go home? We’re going home. Or rather, we’re staying home. We’ve invited immediate family only. The stranger danger for him and the stress for me is all lessened. And that, my friends, is how we’re going about this little man’s first birthday bash.
Will Work For Raisins
In anticipation of Hooper’s first birthday, I thought I’d snap some before-the-party-shots. Surprisingly, the hat didn’t throw him into much of a protest. He still wasn’t a total willing participant. So I paid him with raisins. It worked. And these are what I got in exchange. The ones of him crying capture the result of the “exchange” not happening quite up to a one-year-old’s standards.
Home Remedies
Every morning Hooper has poop in his diaper. Most days there are additional poops by the time the day is done. Cleaning poop is one thing, but cleaning poop butt when you have a ball grabber is a whole other thing. As soon as I take that diaper off, it’s like white on rice. Not only is he a magnet to his junk, he’s also Mr.Squiggly Wiggly worm. Changing his soiled diapers successfully has really become something to brag about. Lately, I’ve been trying to give him something to hold while I try to change him. This usually works for a brief time, so like any animal in the animal kingdom, I’ve learned to get faster. I have the new diaper ready, wipes already pulled. But it’s not cutting it. He just wants to grab those nuts. So, this morning like a light coming from above it came to me. Here is my new solution:
5 Weeks
The other day we were playing in the front yard. Our neighbor was also outside with her young boy. The boys stared curiously at one another while the grown-ups made small talk. The small talk went something like this:
Neighbor: “My other son is 10 years old. I wish they were closer in age.”
Me: “Ya, it’s hard to return to the diaper stage once you’re so far beyond it”.
Neighbor: “Are you guys starting to think of having another one soon?”
Me: “Actually, I’m pregnant.”
I don’t know my neighbor’s name, hence me calling her “neighbor”. My mom doesn’t even know I’m pregnant yet. It seems like we need some elaborate-thought-out hoax to tell my parents. I guess that’s why it’s easier to tell complete strangers.
When did you spill the beans you were pregnant? Did you tell strangers or acquaintances before telling family?
Two’s Company
