Our birthday girl, who pleasantly tolerated her birthday hat longer than any one year old I have ever seen!
Long enough for one good picture.

As her party began, she was a bit perplexed by the large, hard, inedible item on her tray, having heard rumors about cake.

Her confusion grew, having discovered a dress in that crinkly box, not a confectioner's blend of smooshy sugars and food coloring.


The shiny purple paper was not her idea of a good distraction.

Although the baby doll inside would have worked, if it weren't so fond of its box.

By the time she finished all the paper pleasantries, she was ready for


THIS!


And as is expected, the fourth one year old in the family is allowed to eat her first cake with all four highly sharp prongs of the standard white plastic fork.


And she enjoyed every delicate fork full.

But the best way to enjoy a really big piece of cake


is like this,

unless, of course,

it enjoys your lap first.

What a great first birthday Luci had!
Thanks for sharing with us, in person or in heart!

Small Successes... Revived

After the fourth person in three days called, just to check if any one was sick, or maybe I was a little overwhelmed, or shoot, did we just fall off the side of the planet, I realized we haven't been blogging in a while. In fact, you have all been waiting for the unveiling of our newest one year old's pictures for over a week, and admittedly, I realize a bit of wistfulness and denial could be involved with all this delay. But before I deal with that, I will lay the blame upon all these small successes which have been most successful in keeping me from blogging over the past few weeks.

1. I have implemented a morning exercise routine. This has far less to do with my concern over my appearance or physical well being, and a great deal more to do with the fact that a few weeks ago I was forced to put an unopened jar on the counter, wipe the sweat from my brow and still my exhaustedly shaking arms, defeated. Thankfully, my six year old son was there to open it for me, and sadly, in this there is no exaggeration.

2. I have managed to maintain an unusually high excitement level about the approaching school year, despite the large number of incomplete tasks. The glow in Peter's eye, that flares up any time someone asks when school starts, can not help but out shine all my stresses.

3. When my first little baby began toddling around the house, my husband and I declared that we would never be one of those families whose knees don't function properly from the repeated scramble up and over baby gates, only to arrive at the desired cabinet whose hardware is so entangled with plastic snapping gears, clamps and bands that after a fifteen minute struggle to set the dusting spray free you realize that baby Houdini is in the bathroom playing with the toilet cleaner, on the other side of the gate. No, our house would be free of those contraptions that were equal in their ability to elevate a parents blood pressure and a child's intelligence to master magician. BUT... after pulling Luci out of the kitchen chair four times, and off the table once, all in the course of wiping a single dish dry, we have enjoyed the taste of swallowed pride and the ache from gate hurdling knees.

Luci's First......

This past Saturday we celebrated our little Luciana's first birthday in West Texas with my parents and sister's family. Being the great father that I am....I decided to let Luci play a little with the big kids on the water slide, with adult supervision, of course!

More of Luci's birthday to follow...

Clomp, clomp, clomp

This is why I stay home...




so that it is my shoes they are clomping around in all day.

Nap time Renagades

In our home we have been forced to institute an unwavering mandate for peace and quiet, rest and solitude, and above all NO questions, from the hours of 12:30 to 2:00 every day, to which all children remotely near the resemblance of possessing reason are subject to obey. This edict, although seeming quite arbitrary and oppressive to those accustomed to excessive verbal exploitation during other hours of the day, has been established not only for maternal mental reformation, but also, and of possibly greater importance, to preserve domestic order and sanity in the form of clean laundry, starched ironing, and other necessary activities easily susceptible to the volatile whims of a two and (almost) one year old. As such, the work performed during this hour and a half is inevitably obscenely large and imposing, forcing myself into a unfortunate state of insanity by the act of multitasking.

The other day, while suffering a particularly violent attack of laundry induced lunacy, I realized the cries echoing down the hallway into my textile lined corner originated from the kingdom's only subject possessing, undeniably, no reason. Being far better at chicken than child taming, especially when assisted by the four walls of a crib, I obstinately ignored the cries of indignation, and hoped, foolishly yes, that they would just go away.

Amazed at my motherly wisdom in assessing the lack of strength in my opponent, whose cries had ceased moments after they began, I gathered the debris from my fabric eruption, tucked the hot iron safely out of a toddler's reach and marched down the hallway with the confidence only the triumphant can know. But as I approached my bedroom, where our eldest was resting, the sound of hushed whispers prepared my pride for a fall.


Their nap time rebellion had been silent and smooth; he transporting not only a baby but her toys too, and she, realizing her privilege, was eager to participate in his silent game. And for me, I was delighted to have three baskets of laundry finished at once, and humbly accepted that my baby's silence does not mean I have won.