do you like birthdays? i like birthdays. especially this one.

Last night I had a dream that I was a famous mommyblogger and got paid to just write snarky, witty things about motherhood and parenting and how EFFING AWESOME it is so I could sit around with Peyton all day in yoga pants or sweatpants or some sort of pants that don't require buttons. So I logged onto my blog this morning and saw that, oh crap, my last post was in March. And the one before that was in December(ish). That should totally set me in the right direction, yessir.

Anyway.

Do we see this sweet baby striking the totally spontaneous and TOTES adorable pose above?

WHAT THE HELL.

Also, please note that as of today Peyton still has just as much hair as in the second photo, but as her noggin has expanded, her existing hair has spread out instead of, oh I don't know, just growing in proportion.

So. We're going to be turning O-N-E in approximately one month. This child not only walks, but climbs stairs (just learned today at Nana's house: nerves=shot) and throws a temper tantrum the likes of which I have never seen. But she also dances, sings, and strings together syllables into sounds which damnit-I-wish-I-knew-what-in-the-dickens-she-is-saying-to-me (and to this day, one of my main challenges in life is deciphering toddler-speak). This is the same child who barely weighed six pounds when we brought her home, whose newborn-sized clothes were just a hair too big, and was so teeny tiny and perfect I thought if I stared at her too hard God would be like "J/K" and poof that last nine months was just a dream and YOU ACTUALLY HAVE NO BABY.

Obviously it worked out in my favor (thanks, Big Guy).

So not only am I: a.) currently working full-time, b.) successfully raising a fragile little diva life, and c.) making sure the house doesn't spontaneously combust, I am also d.) hand-stringing banners, e.) teaching myself how to bake badass cupcakes from scratch, f.) preparing to coat yarn in glue and cornstarch and make cutesy little lanterns, g.) menu-planning, h.) figuring out how to make a one-year-old girl's birthday party Father's Day-friendly (WHATTTUPPP WIFFLE BALL TOURNAMENT) and i.) burning myself with a hot glue gun on a nightly basis making the most adorable dainty little centerpieces I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously, I could probably make it to z.) if I wanted to, and then continue breaking it down for you "aa.)"-style. There is a page-long, hand-written "To-Do" list hanging from my fridge with a freaking V-Tech toy magnet, and oh ho ho, I will make that list my bitch.

The funny thing is, I am SO possessive over this party that I have only showed, like, three whole people the invitations before they were sent, and REFUSE to post any photos of the crafty stuff I've made on Facebook (unlike everything else I have ever made, because if anything I just really dig tooting my own horn) because I want it to be the most glorious surprise ever.

Denny (bless his heart) is the only witness to my crafty craftyness, but that's only because he has to endure my screeching and foul-mouthery every time I burn myself and the glassy-eyed look I get when I stumble out of the craft room with whatever it is I've made and say breathlessly and probably half-crazy, "What do you think?"

So, yes, we are throwing one of those ridiculously over-the-top first birthday parties that probably make people cringe and eyes roll right out of their skulls, and yes, we are throwing it on Father's Day (GASP! and shame on me, right?). But she deserves a fabulous party, and so we will throw one.

I really am the worst blogger ever

FOR SERIOUS.

I'm like, really really bad at this, guys! When I started this blog up, finally, after creating an account during my pregnancy, I had all the best intentions of recording and scrutinzing every little detail of life as a bloated, swollen, pregnant woman, and then of recording life as a puffy, chubby, no-longer-pregnant-but-now-responsible-for-a-freaking-tiny-fragile-life. I really was going to keep up with this. All the best intentions, damnit.

But apparently I suck at the whole "chronicling" these major life events. I wouldn't even show you Peyton's baby book, because I think maybe three whole pages of it are filled out.

So, here I am. It's March, it's 70 degrees outside today, and my baby will be nine months old tomorrow. I booked the location for her first birthday party yesterday. Party planning is officially underway and I get sad and weepy sometimes when I think about it, this little person we created who is crawling, and laughing, and smiling, and has been melting my heart every single day for the last nine months is going to be one whole freaking year old. And because it still remains to be seen if we will have another baby, I really feel like I should have been sucking up and documenting every last second.

Like seriously, guys, I took her out on our front porch yesterday and kids were getting off the bus after school. I pointed those kids out to her and told her one day she'll get to take a bus to school and naturally I cried because one day, not very soon, but soon enough, my baby will take a bus to school. And leave me behind to inhale bus fumes as it whisks her off to do whatever awesome thing it is that she'll do in school that day.

This is all not fair. Babies should be babies forever.

Babies, houses, weddings: oh my

Happy mildly belated new year, friends. I know I haven't posted in EONS, but I have so much to share. 2012 and 2013 are going to be big in our family. HUGE. So excited.

First of all: we are putting our house up for sale in March and getting the eff out of hereeee! Not out of here as in out of New Jersey, but out of our current neighborhood. We are looking forward to raising Peyton in a neighborhood with kids her own age, where there are (possibly) sidewalks and (hopefully) privacy, and (definitely) no crazy people. Denny is looking forward to having a garage. And maybe a pool. And me, I'm looking forward to a nice kitchen (even though I love the one I have now) and entertaining space. Keeping my fingers crossed that we won't have to schlep Peyton all over South Jersey for the holidays next year because we can host them and everyone will come to us. I have beautiful dreams about that scenario.

Second of all, this happened:

We're getting MARRIED! Date is set (7-13-13, one lucky number and two unlucky numbers, but I MAKE MY OWN LUCK, FOOLS), venue is booked, and I am going (happily) crazy looking at all the amazing DIY crafty things I can do. Just so, so, so excited.

And not only am I getting married next year, but my sister is too! They finally booked their wedding for January 2013. We are both going to be so busy with wedding shenanigans in the next year and a half that we won't know what to do with ourselves.

Third of all: the joys of having an incredibly mobile child are...many-faceted. Peyton does not stop moving from the time she wakes up until she falls asleep. I took her to visit with my grandparents yesterday and she crawled in circles for FOUR HOURS STRAIGHT, taking a break every so often to climb onto something, pull herself up on some piece of furniture, or to gather her surroundings in the resulting dizzyness. It's comical and amazing, because she discovers something new every day (as I type, she has discovered that yes, the coffee table is wonderful to chew on) and watching her overcome obstacles in that clumsy baby way brings me such pride and joy in my little girl that my heart almost hurts because of it.

Okay, enough sap, let's talk DIAPER CHANGES. With an increasingly mobile child comes the difficulty with which diaper changes are executed. Never in a million years did I think I would dread these times, but now it is a reality. Peyton, during diaper changes, reminds me of an alligator in the sense that an alligator spinsandspinsandspinsandspins once captured and tethered, because, you know, it wants to rip your face off since you're trying to capture it. My kid, while I'm pinning her down as best I can and fumbling frantically to get business taken care before she notices I'm even doing ANYTHING, will suddenly and forcefully use her head for leverage and arch her back so hard that I have no choice but to release due to the sheer fact that I'm terrified I will somehow harm her during her retaliation. At which point she will flip and flee as quickly as she can, diaper on or not. I can honestly admit that she has flipped and fled on two occasions that involved #2 diapers, and the outcome was not pleasant. There is something horrifying about poo smushed into the carpet because your 7 month old daughter finds it hysterical to plant her dirty little butt onto the floor while you shriek helplessly, "NNNNOOOOOO! DON'T SIT DOWWWWWN!"

Not the best quality photo, but a perfect example of not wearing any pants

due to the skillful "flip and flee"

Also, I freaking love this kid.