Nolan Twelve Months (aka Better Late Than Never)
A Sweet First and Third Birthday Party
The genius of having all of your kids in a three-day span?
Having to throw only one, mega, blow-out birthday party a year. *all the praise hands*
As much as I love the planning, designing, decorating, etc., I'm also pretty glad that, like Christmas, it only comes 'round once a year. Until about a decade from now when they wise up and realize that they all want their own dang birthday parties. But until then...
I may or may not have been planning their party since last summer. (Yes, I'm that mom.) Or at least when my brain was thinking of ideas for a first and third party -because what on earth do you do for two three-year olds and a one-year old? - the phrase "it's sweet to be one and three" kept floating around my head. Kids and candy? Oh yes. So despite the fact that the one-year old couldn't really partake, I ran with the candy theme. The three-year olds on the other hand? Definitely approved.
{Candy scoops. Scored the candy jars through Facebook marketplace.}
{Wrapped colored paper lanterns in clear cellophane for hanging "candy" decorations. Rainbow felt garlands - planning to use them now as decoration in the playroom or Nolan's room. The party was just a good excuse to order them. ;) }
I am giving major props to myself this year for ordering out for all of the cakes. The cake pops (which turned out to be THE most amazing cake pops I have ever had, and I have had a few cake pops in my day) were made by a friend of a friend, and I ordered the three mini cakes from a bakery. It was the first year that I haven't spent the day or two leading up to the party making 50 or so cupcakes, and with Nolan's nap strike going on, this was sheer GENIUS. There's a very good reason you can pay other people to do these things for you.
(Yum.)
The enthusiastic guests of honor:
(Good work, guys.)
(That's...as good as the family pics got.)
(Fun fact: Brooklyn's hair bow is mine from when I was a girl.)
The above photo perfectly captures how I felt while opening presents: surrounded by gift wrap and small children while more presents were tossed down on me from above. Gifts for three birthday kids? Seemingly never-freaking-ending. It is somehow actually worse than Christmas.
(Brooklyn, when confronted with a stack of birthday cards at the end with cash inside (i.e. not attached to a gift): "Where's the presents? THESE NEED PRESENTS!" Bless.)
With three now basically sharing a birthday, I feel strongly that they should at least each get their own birthday cake. My INTENTION was to cut up Caden and Brooklyn's cakes, once the candles were blown out, for anyone who wanted an actual slice of birthday cake instead of a cake pop. Nolan got to dive on in since, well, that's what you do with a first birthday. But the second they saw Nolan going to town with his two little hands, well...
Dig in, you two.
(As you can see from Brooklyn's cake, people still weren't shy about snagging a slice.)
Oh, and you might have thought that Brooklyn's would have been the pink cake while Caden and Nolan got the blue and green ones, but...
Nope. Brooklyn's favorite color is firmly blue, Caden's is definitely green, which left Nolan with the pink cake. (Why order a pink cake then? I don't know. I like pink. I still wanted a pink cake. I suppose I could have done orange maybe? I just liked blue and green and pink together. Also, Nolan doesn't have a favorite color yet and, hey, cake is cake.)
The difference between the first and second (or third, as the case may be) time around? The first year I was adamant that I was going to make Caden and Brooklyn's birthday cake. It was going to be banana - they LOVE bananas! - and it was going to be all organic and I was making it my own damn self so I knew exactly what was in it. You can't just go around feeding a one-year old a sugared up cake from any old bakery, people! The result being that it was the first time they had ever had cake and didn't really know what to do with it and it was probably still too sweet for them so they hardly touched it. No impressive one-year old cake smashing went on that day. So this time...
Go to town, little man. You've already had your fair share of cake tasting in the six months you've been allowed solid food, anyway.
(Cake coma. Good work.)
+++++
Throwing a party for forty people might be draining, but it's nothing, NOTHING I tell you, compared to the aftermath the next day.
Still trying to find homes for all their swag. It's a very, very good thing these birthdays only come around once a year.
+++++
In case you're interested:
One Who Is One
Oh, Nolan...
What to say about you and those biggest blue eyes turning one?
(Cake coma.)
You like to play with balls and anything with wheels. Watching the cars go past out our back windows is one of your favorite activities. You have an enormous appetite, and there's not much that you won't eat. (Except cheese. You're iffy on cheese. I didn't know I grew kids like that.) You are crazy good at walking, and amazingly fast. You walk just about everywhere now, dodging minefields of toys all day long. You're long but skinny, a string bean, and your height surprises everyone when they find out that you are just now turning one. You've learned how to scream recently, and enjoy doing so at every opportunity. You are the most ticklish baby I've ever met. They say babies aren't ticklish until a certain age, but I swear up and down that you've been ticklish since day one. Your brother and sister adore you, and you adore them. Playing with them (well, as much as you can) and watching them run around, jump about, and make silly sounds for your amusement gives you so much delight. You'll never turn down attention but are often just as content to explore and play on your own.
You are determined. You know what you want and when you want it and there's absolutely no deterring you. You get mad when you don't get your way. You've reached every physical milestone early, rolling over, crawling, climbing, and walking before most of your friends. You love books, so much so that "book" was your first word. Despite quitting, cold-turkey, the sucking of the two middle fingers on your right hand nine months into your first year, you have figured out how to sooth yourself to sleep through the night again. You're not so sure about naps, though. You took three naps for the vast majority of this past year, took two naps for a hot second, but aren't quite sure how to transition to just one, or how long that one nap should be. Let's work on that one, huh? Your enormous blue eyes are the first thing everyone comments on when they see you. Like your big brother and sister, you aren't a bit shy, and the 40 people that were here for your first birthday bash didn't phase you a bit.
That you were born a year ago seems both completely possible (it has been a long year, after all) and absolutely impossible, both at the same time.
(Wookit dat smoosh-face.)
(Family squeeze!)
You get lots of attention because you're the baby, yet you can also get lost in the shuffle. A million times yesterday I realized with a start that, "oh, right, it's your birthday tomorrow", since we already celebrated a couple of birthdays just the day before. Like your brother and sister, it's a bit surprising that you are turning one just now, since you've hit so many of the big milestones already: walking like a pro, a word or two under your belt. But less so. You are still the baby, after all. That you're growing into an actual toddler is still incomprehensible, in a way. When we make future plans it's impossible to think of you as 18 months, or a two-year old in your own right, able to keep up more and more with your siblings. I can understand having a couple of toddlers and a baby around, but a couple of kids and a toddler? That makes no sense to me. You'll just be a baby forever, right? Besides that nap business, I'd be content to keep you here, right where you are for awhile.
Of course, you're ready for more. You're not shy about pushing your way into any situation that your brother and sister or other playmates are in. You want to be right there with them.
Go get 'em, you big one-year old.
(You know it's been a good party when everything is a bit blurry by the end and you find yourself wandering around without pants.)
I'm still going to call you Baby Nono, though.
Two Who Are Three
THREE.
(I promise, they are way more excited than those fake smiles are letting on.)
I can't say that this is exactly one of those "oh my gosh time sure has flown I can't believe my babies are that old omg!!!!!11!!!" kind of posts.
Honestly? It feels like Caden and Brooklyn have been two-years old for approximately FOREVER. Seriously, this past year has been LONG. I'm mostly surprised that they aren't three yet. In the past few months, I've often found myself thinking of them as three years old. So the fact that we are just getting here? Feels kind of strange.
Part of that is the addition of baby brother almost exactly a year ago. The year has been long with meeting and caring for another little person's needs. The nursing and the changing and the additional sleep deprivation.
But the bigger thing is that they themselves just seem so old. They're usually pretty mature. Oh, don't get me wrong. They have their moments. We have our fair share of tantrums and stubborn streaks and lack of listening around here. But for the most part? They're good little kids. They are so very verbal, and certainly not shy. It's usually a race (or a tie) to see which of them answers first when their teachers at school or gymnastics ask a question. They chitter-chatter nonstop and will usually answer a question asked directly to them, whether from an adult or another kid. They're better at sharing and taking turns than most kids their age, simply because they've never known any different. And they just plain old act older. More often than not I find them interacting with the 3, 4, or 5 year olds at the playground or on playdates, instead of their fellow 2-year olds. Just last week at the park, Brooklyn and another little girl were chatting away, having a full-blown conversation, struck up by Brooklyn herself, and I was surprised when her new friend said she was five years old.
They're so physically able as well. They - Caden especially - don't shy away from the big kid equipment at the park, and tackle most of the challenges sent their way at gymnastics. They've always been a bit on the early side as far as physical movement is concerned, crawling, walking, climbing, etc., and that trend has continued.
They're both smart. They pick up new concepts and memorize things at lightning speed. More than one of their teachers has commented on how early they were able to recognize all of their letters, and shapes, and colors. They have (or, ahem, can have) ridiculously long attention spans for their age, and will think nothing about sitting through the reading of an entire stack of books.
And most of the baby stuff has completely disappeared. Where many of their playmates are still in cribs, they've been in toddler beds for over a year. The pacifiers are long gone. They've been out of diapers for half a year or more.
Between our year of #threeunderthree (so long, hashtag), and their relative maturity, they seem so much older to me than just now turning three.
But here it is, a third birthday. Times two. A double third birthday celebration. And then again, can it be that it was only three short years ago that these two little babies made us parents? Just three years ago that I was relieved of the 10 1/2 pounds of baby all squirreled up inside of me? Three years ago that our lives were so drastically altered?
+++++
Three-year old Caden loves trucks and tractors. He enjoys play-doh, coloring, and painting, and more often than not is drawing a "road". His answer to, "what should we do?" is usually, "I know! Let's build a choo-choo track!" He is my often serious, sometimes mischievous, rule-following little helper, and the most polite toddler you ever did see. "Oh thank you mommy, thank you! thank you for helpin' me!" He loves to talk and make observations. He has a wild streak - still waiting for that healthy dose of fear to kick in - and is a champion balance bike rider. He also adores books (Berenstain Bears are a particular favorite) and the show Super Why.
And three-year old Brooklyn. She can be a little chatterbox. Whenever we go somewhere, to school or a friend's house, she immediately finds a baby or a stuffed animal to care for until it's time for us to leave. She is a little mommy to Nolan, too, helping to give him a drink of water or more food and can even "baby-sit" him for awhile, playing games and making him laugh, until her attention wanders to other things. She has a joyful, silly, spirited streak, and enjoys play-doh, coloring, and painting. She loves to sing songs (it's amazing how many she has memorized) and to read books. And with their recent gymnastics classes, she is a near-professional somersaulter.
Together, these two are absolutely, positively BFFs. If one wakes up before the other, the second one wanders around their bedroom once they get up, wondering "where's Brooklyn?" or "where's Caden?". They play pretend and sing their favorite Frozen songs together all the live-long day. "I'm Elsa - chase me!" "Come back Elsa!" *epic run around the house ensues* "Now I'm Elsa!" *repeats all day long* They adore their baby brother and quite literally tackle him with hugs, and suffocate him with kisses. They love to cheer him on whenever he does something new: "he's standing! He's walking! He said 'book'!"...even though some of these things he's been doing for awhile now. And they share and take turns and help each other - often preferring each other's help instead Tyson's or mine - all day long.
Happy Birthday, you two big three-year olds! It's about time...
A Love Story
Falling in love. Or, to be more accurate: staying in love.
It doesn't always happen. Staying in love is a lot of work. Especially with our children.
Some days - months, years, seasons - are just hard. We hear about that all the time. The little years especially, all the struggles they entail.
And let's pause for a moment so as not to minimize the flat out WORK of these years. It is hard. Draining. Sleep schedules, sleep training, sleep deprivation, the cleaning up of ALL of the things, making the food, picking up toys, changing diapers, potty training, carrying those babies in their carseats, getting out the door, soldiering on through bedtime, again, and again, and again. Wake up and repeat. Phew.
(It's adorable because you didn't have to clean up the floor afterward.)
And yet.
Sometimes, it happens. An ordinary day, or week, or month. But the stars have aligned. Maybe everyone slept well the previous night. Breakfasts were eaten. Moods and spirits are high. Listening ears have been turned on. The toddlers are filled with cheerful, giggly camaraderie. A perfect equilibrium.
And you find yourself doing the most ordinary of things: walking down the dairy aisle of Target, in my case. And you realize...
Hey...These kids - my kids - they're pretty GREAT!
You listen as they chitter-chatter about their favorite kinds of cheese (not gouda or feta, mind you, but the kind that have been branded with Frozen characters). "Coffee - you need that for your coffee, mommy!" is shouted as they point to the heavy cream in its case. Hey, I do. Thanks for the reminder, guys. They discuss gifts for their new baby cousin (a baby doll "just like mine!" from the toddler girl, a "shaker thing", aka rattle, because "babies love shaker things!" from the toddler boy). They sit nicely, calmly, making little toddler jokes and enjoying each other's company.
The baby happily munches on a cracker from his perch inside the cart and you realize that you haven't really been paying attention to where you've been steering that thing, because these kids? Are kind of awesome. Look at them - look at us - all out in public and making conversation and giggling and behaving ourselves! You want to squish them and kiss their cheeks and laugh with them some more, because this? This is FUN! Right now you'd be content to just keep on pushing that cart forever. Of course that won't happen. There are things like lunches to make, naps to be had, an entire schedule to attend to. And also you should get that gallon of milk somewhere with refrigeration, stat.
Sometimes the feeling lasts for a moment. Only until you reach the checkout lane. Or just until the chaos of bedtime. Occasionally the stars really align and the feeling lasts for days, or even weeks.
(Like when they discover the joy of entertaining their OWN DANG SELVES. Can I get an amen?)
It's a simple story, nothing new, tale as old as time. But every now and then it reaches out and catches you, on the most ordinary of days. You want things to stay this way, just like this, forever. This moment, that mood, this feeling, these kids. For any of it to change, for time to move on, feels like the ultimate tragedy. And even though they are your children, you realize that you're living what can't be anything other than a love story.