Two

During my pregnancy, Dan turned 30. We met his family for dinner one night in early March and during the drive home, he came to the conclusion that birthday celebrations are for parents not kids. Now, this is coming from someone who literally wants nothing for his birthday. As in, "Please stop asking me what I want to eat for my birthday. I don't care."

Where as I love to extend my birthday over several days and I prefer a celebrations that incorporate my favorite things: loved ones, cocktails, good food and the outdoors. I used to apologize for this but as I get older I'm comfortable with my requests and it's not like I'm asking for presents or anything.

Back to the question of who really needs the celebration: parents or kids?

Last year, Ingrid had no idea what was happening. She was excited to look at new books, dresses and toys. You could sense her happiness as family and friends surrounded for the afternoon. In true skeptical Ingrid fashion, she didn't dive right into her cupcake. She studied it carefully and eventually nibbled at her first baked good. We like to think that she's hesitant to try new things until she knows the outcome. She didn't take her first steps until she was able to put one wobbly first in front of the other.

A year later, someone has delivered us a fully-grown toddler who's capable of walking, running and faux-jumping (jumping with both feet firmly planted on the ground). She's got this incredible raw honesty that will stop you in your tracks. She'll deliver a firm "No. No I don't." if she's not in the mood to snuggle, take a bath or drink water. The snuggle-no always hurts but, sometimes a girl just needs her space.

There is still so much babyness to her: the plump tummy, inability to dress herself completely, or walk long distances. She speaks in full sentences but words are misunderstood. She gets the idea of a time-out and sometimes talks herself out of her "time-out worthy" behavior.

When reflecting on her growth and milestones, it's hard given that the past 12 months welcomed so many small changes but when compounded, it's a world of difference between one and two. Here's what I love about Ingrid - as a baby, at one and today:

• Observant 
• Honest 
• Thinks that dresses are pretty 
• Loves dairy 
• Loves meat 
• Loves adventures (aka, errands) 
• Balloons are amazing 
• Non-snuggly 
• Loves books 
• Loves the outdoors 

Did I even address the question I gave myself of "who needs a birthday celebration - the parents or kids?"

My thoughts (since you won't stop asking): she'll go through two to three decades of thinking and knowing that birthdays are all about her. When and if she ever has babies she'll (hopefully) understand that it's a pretty special day for us parents too. The moment of going from who you've always known yourself to be to a mom is pretty memorable. It's scary, life-altering, surreal and will warm your heart beyond imagine. Mostly it's really scary.

Even though we're keeping it simple this year - candles in French toast for breakfast this morning, one present (doll house) and dinner at Red Robin (fancy!) tonight - it's a really special day for our family. Ingrid knows that because she gets extra sugar today and really, when you're two, that's a rad day. Or when you're 29.

Thinking of: Ingrid's Second Birthday Party

The internet is a wonderful source for inspiration and discovery. What's the cast of Full House is up to now. Well, the internet tells me that "Stephanie" has a three-year-old named Beatrix Carlin Sweetin-Coyle.

It's also a source of frustration. A frustration with the seemingly endless stream of jaw-dropping DIY ideas. After spending a few minutes on Pinterest I feel defeated even before a project has even started. Who are these people making Pottery Barn-worthy headboards? Do fashion bloggers have part-time modeling gigs on the side? Because, ok, we get it. 

Tonight, I set out on an internet adventure to find Ingrid a sweet dress for a Tea Party themed birthday party. Then, after drooling over tablescapes and party favors (complete with monogrammed labels, natch), I decided this theme will work best when she's a bit older. When she can invite friends over to clink little teacups and decorate cookies. 

I thought about her favorite things: yogurt, babies, Cinderella, chocolate, bubbles, ice, books, dancing, playdough, M&Ms and the moon. 

Behind babies, the moon comes in a close second. 

If we head outside during sunset/nighttime hours Ingrid will look up in the sky and search for the moon. Once spotted, she screams: "MOON!" as if it's the first time she's witnessed its glory. If she can't find it, she'll let you know that it's "too cloudy." 

On Valentine's Day we were walking to a frozen yogurt shop when said "moon" over and over. I looked up in the sky and scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. We couldn't see the moon from where we were standing. Then, on our walk back to the car, I noticed a crescent-shaped pattern on bricks for a carpet shop. Sure enough, there was the "moon." The beloved moon. 

So, back to the party. 

The time will come for princess themes (the girl loves her Cinderella...), tea parties and "Mom, I'm too old for that kid stuff." parties. This year we'll be celebrating one of her favorite books: Goodnight Moon. 

Goodnight Moon is one of those books you think you remember as a kid but, once you've memorized it, it's so much better than you remembered  It's simplistically wonderful. During an episode of Mad Men this season, Pete read the book to his daughter. I love that generations of parents have said "Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere." 

For Ingrid's second birthday, we'll make moon-shaped sugar cookies and you better believe there will be a red balloon. I'll leave the intricately decorated cake pops, waterbottle wraps and matching cupcake liners to those wonderfully patient moms (and dads!) who apparently have never-ending creativity, patience (and bigger budgets). 

That said, here are some great Goodnight Moon party ideas. 

You can find more over on my Pinterest (ha!) Parties board: 

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What are your favorite kid-themed birthday parties? Any ideas on activities for toddlers?

Corn on the Cob

This summer Ingrid went from crawling to wobbly standing to walking in a few short months. Yes, those developmental milestones are cheer-worthy, they now feel like they happened a lifetime ago.

Now, she toddles out of her room and over to her highchair and it feels and looks so natural, I can hardly remember carrying my little nugget to her seat.

Those first steps were monumental. They called for a video, a celebratory text to the grandparents and a note in the baby book (when it gets updated...). 

Recently, Ingrid had her first taste of corn on the cob and later - and for the first time ever in her life - she swept the kitchen floor. Or, "swept" the kitchen floor. 

Baby book worthy? I'm not so sure. 

But as I watched those little gears in her head turn as she moved the broom from one hand to the next, I was amazed. Then, I was amazed that this small "milestone" was literally bringing a tear to my eye. No one ever asks you "So, when will your daughter eat corn on the cob?" or "Has Ingrid started sweeping the floor yet? Because my friend's cousin's baby started sweeping her kitchen floor at 10 months." 

I don't even know when kids are supposed to eat corn on the cob, but it was a supervised meal, she has about 10 teeth and everyone is fine. So, settle down...you.  

But seriously, these new and seemingly small moments are wonderfully sweet and precious. Even though she's taken her first steps and muttered her first words, I can't wait for more moments like these: 

Now, you're encouraged to use your hands. 

Not a fork...

Yup. Got it!

Carefully working it all out.

Nice try. 

Helping in the kitchen = eating a snack on a chair. 

Which leads to asking/signing for More Snack. 

Awkward and Awesome

Summer is almost here - let's roll up our sleeves and dig in. 

While at a White Sox's game yesterday I was this close to having a hot dog, but resisted the temptation because it didn't feel right. We were in a fancy restaurant in the stadium, and honestly, who can eat a hot dog on a white plate? With a tablecloth? Weird. Hot dogs are hot dogs and brats are reserved for tailgates. 

I've also been rationing the cucumber vodka using the bizarre logic of: "Is it hot enough for cucumber vodka? I don't want to get sick of this come August..." 

I'm treating brats and liquor like fine China. 

Maybe it was the short winter. Maybe it's the realization that this summer is not like last summer (i.e. new infant, no job, nursing every 2-4 hours). Or maybe it's because Ingrid is growing at a rapid pace. But everything feels slightly askew and I know we're entering uncharted territory with a toddler. Which feels terribly awkward in the moment and amazingly awesome in memory. 

Awkward: 

• Finding mashed up peas on your shirt late in the workday. Then silently recalling that it was actually avocado from lunch. Then blame it on your daughter to a group of people who have since moved on from said "mashed up peas."  
• A massage in a wood-paneled room (thanks Groupon)! 
• Getting busted for playing Words with Friends.
• Being awkwardly terrible at Words with Friends.  
• Tripping not once, not twice, but three times in rapid succession while running by a group of people. 
• Not so much awkward as it was depressing - burning a batch of caramel corn. 

Awesome: 

• Husband being done with school (for now). As much as I loved the discussions around essay revisions and sign language quizzes, I'm happy to have my calm, cool and collected husband back. 
• Bright lipstick and top knot hairdos. 
• Hide and seek with Ingrid. Just don't go too far or someone (Ingrid) gets panicky. 
• This knock-off Panara Thai Chicken Salad Recipe. 
• Ingrid's joyful state while splashing around the kiddie pool. Post pool-time smile, also awesome: 

And one of the most awesome moments of all - Ingrid taking her first few steps.

Not to belabor the point, but it does feel a bit awkward to think this small feat is so awesome. But with true sincerity, seeing her take her first(ish) wobbly (or some might say, awkward) steps was such a proud, emotional and (dare I say, awesome) moment.

(that sentence was "Ugh, I'm like, crying." Classic Mom.)

Standing.

Last fall Ingrid and I went to the daycare bi-annual potluck for some yummy casseroles, treats and a chance to connect with staff and other parents. During the potluck, I learned that one of the kids went from wobbly-standing to walking during the course of the day. I think you know where I'm going here.

On Sunday Ingrid started to stand.

Drooly shirt, messy floor and all - this is one of my favorite pictures of Ingrid because she is so proud of herself in this moment. 

For about 20 minutes she was squatting, twirling and falling around the living room. Then, she just did it. She just stood up on her own - no props, no helping - and was pumped. 

I understand that she could take her first "real" steps while I'm at work and I'll deal with that when it happens. I'm assuming I'll be disappointed and excited. But for now, I'm cherishing these moments before she can walk and run. 

One.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. My favorite kind of whirlwind that involved multiple parties to plan, friends and family to visit and cocktails to be sipped.

All of the whirlwinding took a toll on me yesterday in the form of an annoying head cold/sore throat so I parked it on the couch and watched Gossip Girl between trips to and from the kitchen for juice, medicine and Kleenex.

In a medicated haze, I thought about the cold-hard truth that tomorrow - as in today - Ingrid will be turning one. 

Today, Ingrid is one. Today, I have a one-year-old daughter. 

And I couldn't help reflecting on our lives one year ago - and how different everything is one year later. 

New baby, new role as a mother, new routine, new lack-of-routine, new priorities, new job, new grocery list (seriously, now staples include bananas and whole milk). 

And I'm pleasantly surprised how much is the same. I'm at home in our lovely little apartment, Harper is still bouncy little Harper, Dan is still Dan and my friends and family are wonderfully supportive. I still love all of my loves including brunch, online shopping, vodka grapefruits and yoga. I now just do yoga in my living room. 

The newness has been constant this past year and - as cliche as it is - I can't believe it's already been a year since we welcomed her on April 10. 

Today, we celebrated with Tofu Rice Bowls for dinner, gave Ingrid a bath and read about 14 books.

We did host a birthday party with friends and family last weekend and my favorite part of the day was the cake. When we placed the cupcake in front of her, she just studied the cupcake and started to pick off the sprinkles one by one. She grinned a scrunch-face grin at everyone surrounding her and slowly ate her frosting. 

No one was too impressed by this method as they were all anticipating the face-in-cake routine. But not little Ingrid. As I recounted this to my aunt on the phone later that night, she smartly replied "Well, that's how she wanted to eat her cake." 

And that's one of my favorite things about Ingrid - she's funny, intense, has a sense of humor and a really, really, really long attention span.

I know there will be years of her smashing cake in her face, years of her requesting a certain cake flavor, years where she'd rather not see me or any cake - but for her first birthday, she wanted to pick off her colored sprinkles one by one. And then, when I intervened and smashed that corner of her treat in an effort to "help" - she looked at me as if to say "This is how I want to eat my cake." Then, I slowed down, listened and let her eat it because she's wonderfully sweet that's how she wants to eat her cake.

Current State

Tonight, Ingrid was a rock-star. She was crawling back and fourth on the couch, giggling the entire time. She had a bath, then a bottle and was fast asleep within minutes. As husband and I settled in with our takeout Chinese, we let out dramatic sighs. He then declared, "Can't she just stay the same for one second." 


Seriously.

From laying on her back to rolling over to scooting to crawling to pulling herself up. From crying to smiling to babbling to da-da. From hitting herself in the face with her hands, to rapidly waving arms, to pointing to clapping to sort-of signing "all done" - the girl is constantly changing.

It's all common baby knowledge, but it's completely surreal to experience it first-hand.

This constant state of transition is difficult to fully communicate as it's not really "constant." It feels as if the second we, the parents, get a grip on her stage, mood or cues, she's onto the next. One night she's sleeping soundly, the next she's crying-out in pain. Oh yeah, she's probably teething.

It all sounds so cliche, but it's so true, these first ten-and-a-half months have flown by and she'll never be swaddled, fit in a little swing, be toted around in an infant car seat, or laugh at the simple phrase "Ah, bless you." ever again.

While in these transitional times, I want to push her over the fence to the next stage. Then, I'm on the fence knowing that the stage of swaddling, crawling or even growling will someday be over.

Another motherhood-cliche - kids help you live in the moment. Babies need you to be in the moment. When she's tired she sleeps, when she's hungry she eats and when she's playful she play. The emotions are honest, raw and real. Tears break your heart - even if they are the cause of a seven inch fall. Smiles will melt your heart even faster - especially if they are because you put a book on your head (hilarious). 


Pre-kids, I didn't like when people talked about their kids being "teachers." My gut always told me they gave their kids too much credit and needed to remove the blinders because - how could kids be that wise?

No matter the transitional state, Ingrid has kindly-demanded that we be in the moment, be present and be mindful of what's going on. As much as I want her to remain the same, or move onto the next developmental stage - she's a solid reminder to be mindful and present in the moment. And then, just as I start to see her as a little Buddha, she shoves a puppet in her mouth and I'm happily reminded that she's still little tiny baby Ingrid.

And, she's off.

Over the holiday break, Ingrid went from scooting around to sort-of crawling. 

She's here. Now she's over there. Oh no, now she's putting Harper's Kong in her mouth. 

Oh brother, she's on the move.

It's wonderful and insane.