Easter Bucket contains: pinwheel, whisk, mini-slinky, two stuffed animals, Precious Moments prayer book, Pez and Pez dispenser, bouncy ball. Favorite part so far: bucket.
Ah, the ancient Easter Bucket on the Head tradition. I believe it began with the disciples after the Resurrection. Jesus would be proud.
I think Baby Evan's...
...first birthday party...
...was a...
...SMASHING success!
More pictures & details coming soon. Thanks to the amazing Amanda for the smash cake!
Since I have about fiveteenbazillionty people visiting right now for Baby Evan’s birthday, I was really hoping to find an Friday activity we could all enjoy more than starting at each other. Or cleaning my stove. Which is apparently my dad’s idea of a fun afternoon activity. Luckily, I was able to rudely invade my play group’s Easter egg hunt at the local park, because standing around staring becomes an acceptable pass time when there are children at which to stare. Of course I mean stare in a totally non-creepy, not in the bushes, not driving a windowless van sort of way.
Besides, it’s not like I had anything better to do than buy, stuff, and hide 30 plastic eggs. I don’t have much going on right now. You know, nothing like a ridiculously elaborate, hand crafted birthday party for 45 people. Nope, not me.
All the pretty baskets
Baby Evan enjoys story time before the hunt started. P.S. DON'T EVEN ASK ME ABOUT WHY HE HAS A GIANT BANDAGE ON HIS FOREHEARD.
OK, LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT HIS HEAD. It's really not a big deal. Baby Evan fell this morning and smashed his head on the support post in our kitchen. I'm told he wasn't actually that upset but the bump is HUGE. Even huger than the bump from our emergency room trip.
Baby Evan's cousin Ethan liked finding the eggs, but was very disappointed most of them didn't contain candy. All the mommies made wise choices so most of them had stickers and organic snack mix.
Baby Evan didn't really care what was in them. He just liked that they were round and brightly colored.
Ethan did somehow manage to find the only two eggs on the entire playground that had chocolate in them. Boy, that kid really likes candy. Saturday is going to BLOW HIS MIND.
Awesome, now I have a whole bunch of really useful plastic eggs.
OK, so the bump has gone down a lot since this morning and I'm hoping he'll be improved enough before the party that no band-aid is better than band-aid. Or maybe I'll just find some circus themed band-aids and pretend it was on purpose.
I was going to write a whole big joke post today (I’m pregnant! AHAHAHAHA HILARIOUS!) but I don’t really like April Fools jokes. I’m not very good at pulling them and have pretty much no sense of humor when they’re pulled on me. It’s like pinching people for not wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day – the only person laughing is the one doing the pinching.
Besides, announcing I’m pregnant a year after having my last baby isn’t really that shocking or funny. And I kind of hope it’s true.
April 1st 2009 was my due date. I had been counting down every day, every hour, every second until the morning I woke up on the first of April and thought TODAY. Today, I will meet my baby.
Except that I didn’t. Baby Evan didn’t read the memo about due dates and how important they are to pregnant women (I mean, I tried showing it to him but I think the paper got too soggy to be legible). I tried sending him gentle hints.
I tried the whole list of things that are supposed to induce labor, including eating a very questionable can of pineapple rings I found in the back of the pantry. I walked my way through a brand new pair of running shoes. But the first rule of babies is you can’t make them do anything they aren’t ready for and Baby Evan clearly wasn’t ready to join us in the non-amniotic world. (Second rule of babies: Don’t talk about babies. Well, ok, talk about them sometimes. A few times a day. All day. Every second of every day. Forever.)
The five more days it took Baby Evan to make his appearance were some of the longest and most strenuous of my life. I tried to will myself into labor and then take it back as soon as the doctor suggested actually doing something to induce me. There’s just no way to explain those last few days of pregnancy when you go from totally eager and prepared to meet your child one minute to scared shitless and hoping the baby stays inside forever the next. Let’s just say if you find yourself researching adoption laws at 41 weeks you wouldn’t be the first person.
But I promise you’ll be OK. And it is so worth it.
2 more days until Baby Evan’s First Birthday Party.
4 more days until my baby is officially one year old.
