It occurred to me last night as I was playing Diablo III in my Ninja Turtles PJs, drinking wine out of a Stella “chalice” (all the Slurpee cups were dirty – whatiswrongwithme), that I have a First Birthday Party to plan.
Let that sink in. First Birthday Party. It’s so Foreboding and Frightening that it all needs capital letters.
Seriously, planning for a baby is one thing, but a First Birthday Party is something that was never on my radar, period. I barely know what toys to get her normally, and now I’m supposed to get her presents? (Can we wrap the swing she’s had since birth so she’ll maybe consider it shiny and new again?)
I’m getting ahead of myself. Party. How do you throw a party for someone that doesn’t even know any words besides “dada…dadadadaaaa” and “bahbahbbbbb” and also “byablllpmahmah”, whatever that one means? I suppose I ought to focus on the fact that the party isn’t really for her. I don’t really think it’s for us, either, and definitely not for the guests. What’s it for, then? Memories, I think. That’s priority #1, then. Making it extra-memorable (and taking a lot of hilarious pictures that may or may not be used as blackmail in the future).
I guess my shopping list is ingredients to make the nugget a cake to destroy, and newspaper (to cover the floor, natch).
One year. Has that much time seriously passed? It feels like I was pregnant for longer than this. I can only imagine it getting faster. Have you ever thought that the generation that’s in diapers now is going to run the world some day, many years down the road? A new Lady Gaga is somewhere in the world right now wearing a steak because mommy wasn’t watching her in the kitchen. Frightening. There’s gonna be a point where I’m no longer a Cool Mom (as much as I like to think that’ll always be the case, the kiddo is going to say “Like, gosh, my mom dyed her hair purple again. Can you believe her? *eyerolllll*” sooner or later).
That’s not going to happen any time soon. Until then, I hope Arya doesn’t mind if I sit down to watch My Little Pony (Pinkie 4 eva!) with her. There’ll come a day where I consider not wearing my Ninja Turtles PJs around the house. Maybe.