Part 1: The Party
Last sunday we had a little party for Miss Vienna who..apparently.. turned one.
I say 'apparently'...because, well, I don't actually believe that it happened.
People have been trying their hardest to convince me, showing me "scientific proof", staging interventions...but nothing will make me budge.
She's still my sweet little newborn.
This state of blissful denial is the closest I'll probably ever come to understanding those women who nurse their children well in to their teens. Or what seems like it anyway.
*Shudder*.
Anyway, in spite of my stubborn insistence on my baby's true age, I decided to humor my husband, family and friends with a first birthday party for her.
I made a collage of the birthday girl to hang in the dining room.
My intention was to make this a creative, high quality, top notch project, and have it completed a week or two before the party.
Maybe even have it laminated.
And notarized.
But because I'm..well, me... I threw it together 15 minutes before people started arriving at our house.
I often just crumble to the ground and laugh hysterically at all of my crazy ambitions in life!
Speaking of crazy ambitions, the night before the party I baked, frosted, and sprinkled roughly ten million cupcakes.
Ok fine, is more like 50.
And they are what my hormones and I have basically been living off of for a week now.
And boy, are we happy.
And boy, are we happy.
We also had the most delish sandwiches, thanks to my fabulous mother, who was in town that weekend.
Ciabatta, Mayo, Turkey, Provolone, Pesto.
Stop. The. Madness.
Ugh, they were so good.
I think the cupcakes and the sandwiches were at war with each other, over me and my hormones' affections.
We also had ones that were ciabatta with peanut butter and jelly, for the kids at the party.
Pink Lemonade, mixed with sprite.
Because it's pretty.
And yummy.
Would have been a lot yummier if a bottle of white wine would've gotten dumped in there with it, but whatever.
My hormones and I don't want to talk about it.
Cute streamers hanging from her high chair.
She eventually ripped those off one by one and ate them.
Just kidding.
I think...
Awwww! The Birthday Girl!
Wearing her first tutu, which was just too cute to even handle.
She had just woken up from a 3 hour nap, which might as well have been a 20 year coma.
Needless to say, she was a little out of it.
But we got some smiles out of her anyway.
Part 2: The Cake
*Disclaimer: My kitchen is not actually the awful color of dingy dark yellow. You just have to trust me on this one. And not judge my poor camera, who clearly lacks self respect.*
Obviously the best part about any birthday centered around a child under the age of 5 is watching them devour the cake.
We sang. Which of course meant nothing to her.
Clearly my child.
I blew out her candle and let her have at it.
Ya, you get that in there girl.
(This is also a good depiction of how my hormones feel.)
That poor cupcake probably lasted three minutes.
And it only took two hours to clean up the damage that those three minutes caused!
It was a fun little party.
You know, for something she'll never actually remember.
