Well, now that is has been almost three weeks since Ryan's 1st birthday, I think it is high time that I write about it. Get used to this, little one...I haven't even printed out a wedding album for your dad and me...oops.
We decided not to throw a big shindig for the first anniversary of Ryan's birth. We just spent the day doing little things that would make Ryan really have a happy birthday. An extra bath, no car rides at all for our little car-hater, favorite foods, cake...
Ryan woke up bright-eyed and happy as usual on his birthday. We commenced with numerous off-key renditions of "Happy Birthday!" and then I whisked him off to see his lola and Aunt Kristina. I made him banana pancakes, he gobbled them down, and then we proceeded with the second treat of the day: a morning bath! Like all babies, Ryan loves baths.
After we bundled him up, we walked to our local park for some time on the swing.
Then after his afternoon nap, I hung streamers on our bedroom door for the little tornado to blow through. Giggles abounded and streamers were shredded. Needless to say, this may have been his favorite event of the day.
For dinner, I had prepared his favorite meal: chicken vindaloo. I take his portion out before I add any spicy chiles or cayenne so I guess it isn't real vindaloo since it doesn't burn his tastebuds off. My mom made pancit for his "something long." It is a Filipino tradition to eat something long on your birthday so that you live a long life. Any excuse to eat pancit is fine by me, and it looked to be the same way for Ryan. Last, but definitely not least, my mom made us lumpia, my favorite food. Yum.
And for the grand finale...CAKE! We have been your stereotypical first time parents who were waiting to let Ryan have his first taste of sugar on his first birthday. Yeah...we made it as far as Christmas morning when we turned around to see Ryan's mouth painted with chocolate and a huge hunk of peppermint bark clenched in his hand. Hmm, I see that we have a fan of the chocolate and mint combo on our hands.
I baked the spice cakes the night before, but I waited to ice them until dinner time. Big mistake. I found out that I had somehow lost the cap that goes over the frosting tips in my cake decorating supplies. I didn't have any time to run to the store so I resorted to cutting the corner off of a plastic bag and piping the icing using that. I was left with a jaundiced lion with a mane reminiscent of shredded cheese and bulbous blue eyes. I think I will leave cake decorating up to my mother-in-law.
We sang once again for the birthday boy.
Luckily, Ryan didn't seem to care about the lion cake that needed to hit the bilirubin lights (only moms with jaundiced babies will get that reference). He started out by gingerly tasting his own smash cake (yes, I went there into la-la mommy land and made a cake just for Ryan to smash much to Chris' chagrin) and then threw all the decorum that a baby who eats with his hands could possibly have out the window.
After Ryan ran his sugar high out of himself, we settled down with one last bath of the day.
Thank you for the most wonderful first year, Ryan Donald. You make us laugh with your crazy head-shake, and your scrunchy nose smile tickles our hearts. I love when you run-waddle at me and then
throw your arms up and fall forward into my arms instead of taking those last two steps to me. You run around and around and then beg to be held, but only for a few seconds. You just need a little recharging before you are off again. You are such a fearless baby; your dad couldn't throw you up in the air high enough and dogs can't lick your face enough. The only thing to consistently shake you in your bones are the loud toilets in stores. Sorry about those. I'm secretly sad about when you move to your own room in a couple of weeks. I don't mind that you barely nap and that you don't sleep through the night. You are my baby boy, and you won't keep. Thank you for surprising us when you did, little one. I couldn't imagine life without you. See you in probably 30 minutes when you wake up for the first time of the night. Love, Your mama.