Petite Chérie

I’ve been thinking about babies lately.

If I were in England, I believe they would say I’ve been “brooding.”

Don’t get me wrong. We’re done. Done with babies. For many reasons. Time. Money. Psychosis. The kind that comes with not getting any sleep. And the kind that comes with not being able to do anything for yourself because you’re either nursing, trying to get sleep, trying to take a shower or (did I already say this?) trying to sleep.

Those are the things that really wrestle “brooding” to the ground and take its lunch money.

But… Stella sure is growing. My baby is going, going…soon to be gone. Replaced by an amazing and slightly crazy toddler. But no longer a baby.

So, instead of doing something silly or nuts event (like trying to make another of these magnificent little monsters), I’ve decided to simply celebrate the things I love about babies (any babies, really – but mine in particular).

Like...

Births

Sleep

Okay one more picture of sleep. Little bag of sugar.

Laughing at who knows what.

Stuffed animals.

And. I really like watching them grow too. Punks.

Scratch That.

Forget that whole last post.

Because I just read a quote by Jane Austin.

"One can not have too large a party. Or too many friends."

So even though I said we're done with parties, I'm off to plan Stella's July soiree. I think it will be an airplane/red bird theme with red bird mobiles for everyone!

Must start saving now.

Goodnight Sweetheart. It's Time to Go.

Here’s the dealio for everyone out there wondering what it takes to throw a 50-person birthday party for a 5-year old.

You're going to need some:
· Patience.
· Good Grandparents to take care of a stinky little 21 month-old while you wrangle the 5-year olds.
· A few dollars that you'd probably rather spend on a new pair of shoes, but that end up going towards pizza for, well – you know, 50 people.
· Advil for the post-party headache.

All that said, the party is over. We had a really, really great time. And it’s not often I say “really” twice in the same sentence. It's cuz I just love that boy.

Love his friends.

Love our friends.

Love family.

Love Harry Potter.

Love. Love. Love. It's all around.

Now we can just slide on into five like a well worn saddle. Or something like that. What I’m trying to say is that there will be no more presents or parties for a while. So I might need to choose another analogy. Hmmm. I’ll get to thinking on that.

All that said (and shown), here is my favorite image of the party. Stella pre-funking with Grandpa Jim. "Party's over here!"

Fab Five and the Mohawk.

Big party coming up. And I decided we should probably get the boy’s haircut before I take a million pictures of him this weekend. So off we trot to Beachcomber’s Kids Cuts. Where a kid gets to sit on a turtle, watch the movie of his choice and play with a toy while getting his hair cut (it's like a spa trip for the preschool set). So he gets a pretty cute “do” and then proceeds to ask the hairdresser for a mohawk (one of his friends came to school coiffed this way the other day). Not an unheard of request, apparentley, because she whips out the craziest hair gel I’ve ever seen and makes this masterpiece. Needless to say, he’s completely in love with it. And I ended up getting some of the magic gel to recreate the look at home. Because it’s good to have your child looking like a street punk as often as possible. Oh, well. Easiest way to make him happy I've seen in a while.
And, today he's 5. That boy. Dave and I took the day off to celebrate with him. He let us know that, “As long as we get to go to Burger King, I don’t care what else I do for my birthday.” Apparently we’ve been depriving him of Burger King meals. So off we trotted to BK and "Alice in Wonderland" in 3D. An excellent day was had by all.

His official party is on Saturday. Harry Potter theme. 18 children (that ridiculous number of attendees is the result of still being friends with old daycare mates, his love for his current preschool friends, and all the kids from our great circle of friends attending the pool/potter soirée). All that to say, I just spent up all the money I have on 18 pairs of little black glasses, lightning bolt tattoos and wands that light up…you know, so that it’s a true “Potter” experience for our guests. Money well spent. It should be big fun.


Sissy deals with all the fuss by drawing. Or crying. Our little Picasso drama queen.

One, Two, Three, Four

Stella's favorite song of all time (side note: all time = 21 months).

Chubby fingers squishing together in the "more" sign for this over and over again.

More. More. More.

Oh Say Can You See.

This was a long...short weekend. I went to visit one of the friends I've known the longest and love the most, B, in Washington DC. With good food (see above), good company (see above), a Georgetown basketball game and some unexpected, very nice walks around the city (see above), it turned out to be a pretty lovely 36 hours. And, topping it off, I had two stinky kids tackle me like football players upon my arrival back in Seattle on Sunday afternoon. And a tall Texan who watched the Oscars with me that night.

Feel free to rack up three good days for me on the reader board…

Me and the criminals.

I found myself at the King County courthouse today. Interesting spot at noon on a Monday, by the way.

We're registering Henry for Kindergarten (what?) this week, and needed a copy of his birth certificate. The original certificate is in a special place in the basement that has yet to reveal itself to us. And, if anyone asks, we’d like a file cabinet for Christmas.

After a few, precious moments with some of my new favorite crazy people on 4th and Jackson, the registrar handed me the certificate, stamped with some funky rainbow ink that made it “official.” Five years later and the words still make me happy to see:

Henry James Seward
March 16, 2005
2:29 PM
Swedish Medical Center
King County

That was one fantastic day, man. And one fantastic little fella.