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.