A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
I tend to lose my mind sometime around this time of the year for the last few years. It starts with Halloween, which always sneaks up on me and makes me feel like a piece-of-shit mom for never having the energy to make some handmade clever costume. It’s quickly followed by Hooper’s birthday; a day that, for the past three years, I’ve haphazardly thrown something together at seemingly the last minute writing off the lag time by reminding myself that he’s too young to really care anyway. But this year, he knows what’s up. I still lagged, but I did manage to get an email invite out to a few friends and family.
No crazy decorations, a last minute pizza order after we decided a BBQ would be too much work, a pinata stuffed to the brim with leftover Halloween candy, some very special out-of-town guests, and enough wood to keep a fire blazing; the most perfect contradiction to the crisp autumn air.
Organizing Hooper’s birthday was on my pre-surgery to-do list and was one, of many, things I didn’t get around to. I struggle every year with their birthdays; everything from where to have it, who to invite, and timing it as well as possible while trying to take nap time (aka good attitudes) into account. And each year thus far, I fumble around until the last minute and throw something together at the house. This year was no different except for the fact I managed to do even less… no invitations, no friends… just family, who were notified by word of mouth or a phone call. I haven’t been feeling very social since my surgery. For starters, I don’t have the energy. Taking a shower sucks out all the gusto I have for a day. And getting dressed with my back brace in mind has meant leggings and the same flannel shirt over, and over.
Whining aside, his birthday was perfect. He woke up before his brother and enjoyed some one on one time with Willy & I. We let him open a gift from us and he spent the morning playing with his new truck in the absence of his brother, who always wants what he wants these days. Then our home quickly became full of people Hooper loves and who love him. It was a quick reminder that birthdays are not about how you decorated the cupcakes or decorated your house, but instead about love and togetherness.
We had Hooper open a couple presents at a time, so as not to get burnt out. He ate some cake, happily showed off his new set of wheels, and floated around among familiar faces of family.
And just like that, I’m the mother of a three year old.
For the record, in the photos above he had no pants on. Shirt, tie, and diaper. That’s how 2 year olds roll.
And, here’s some from the par-tay:
(That’s Hooper’s great grandma. She’s 95. I’m just sayin’.)
(Great g’ma numero dos. Not 94.)
Is the polite thing to do to apologize for the photo overload? If so, I’m sorry.
I spent a lot of time stressing over Hooper’s birthday. Everything from where to have it, who to invite, and what to eat was decided last minute. And by last minute I mean we bought and put together an outdoor heater the morning of the party. In the end, it was great. We invited some family, some friends, and ordered pizza. We contemplated inviting people we knew that had kids for the sake of having kids at his party, but in the end we decided he’s not going to remember his party anyway and opted to stick to our friends only. As it turned out, when we put all the children of our friends in one room, we had a baseball team minus the outfielders anyway. And lets face it, outfielders don’t do anything other than pick grass. I digress. It was a fun day and we checked off a lot of the home to do list the day before with the help of my in-laws. In any case, I’m making a mental note to be more organized next year to alleviate some of the last minute hustle and bustle.
