Jack attended his first birthday party this weekend.
No, it wasn't his, obviously, but our next door neighbor turned four on Saturday, and Jack was lucky enough to score an invitation to the party. It was a Princess-themed party, so while Jack didn't get all dressed up, he did manage to get in on some of the festivities.
First off, I'd just like to say that kids are tiny, weird humans. I say this in full awareness of the fact that I will, one day, have a tiny, weird human on my hands as well. They're loud, yet sensitive, and every emotion or incident seems to be magnified ten-fold. Our neighbors had rented a giant blow-up Princess castle for the party, and while this seemed to be, at least initially, to be an amazing way to wear children out, it doesn't come without its fair share of drama. Girls were getting their Princess costumes torn, others were getting kicked in the face, slammed into the side of the bouncy castle... like I said, D-R-A-M-A. Fortunately, Jack did NOT go in the bouncy castle, so I was spared the tears that every other kid shed on Saturday. Seriously. I think every kid at that party cried at least once.
We moved indoors then for some cupcakes and presents. The kids fought about what they each got in their goodie bags. Then, when it came time for the birthday girl to open her presents, she started crying because all the kids were literally on top of her, trying to get in on all the action.
Jack and I were off in the corner of the living room while all of this was going on. Like I said, this was a Princess-themed party and all the girls were given plastic tiaras. An older boy at the party came over and put one on Jack's head. Jack was too busy playing, so he just reached up and whacked it off his head. Well, this boy didn't appreciate that, and wanted the other kids to laugh at Jack, so he picked it up again and shoved it on his head. Hard. At that point, I intervened as Jack had started crying. I asked this boy to stop putting the crown on Jack, as I reached over to pick up my crying son, since he obviously didn't like it. The kid looked at me, and said, "You can't tell me what to do. You're not my mom."
I am not ready.
I am not ready for Jack to grow up into this little boy. I am not ready to deal with other kids picking on my son. I am not ready for Jack to befriend kids like this. I am just not ready.
Maybe by the time Jack morphs into a tiny, weird human I'll have become immune to it all. But I'm secretly hoping that he will always stay my sweet boy, who loves to give hugs and kisses, and always wants his mommy when he gets upset. Dare to dream, I say.
I've also become increasingly weepy as Jack's first birthday approaches. There's a part of me that eagerly anticipates his next "stages" where he won't rely on me for everything - when he can communicate and tell me what he wants instead of having to play Mommy Detective with every whimper and wail. When he can actually get himself from point A to point B without bumping his head or having me carry him. Actually, my back is eagerly anticipating that stage. But, for the most part, I'm weepy about the fact that my little man is growing up. He'll never be that tiny baby again. I think I may have said this last week when I was cleaning out his closet. I get teary just boxing up his clothes - imagine what I'll be like when he goes off to college!
In any case, Jack's day care called twice last week - on Thursday, he was really unhappy. He was crying a lot, and appeared really uncomfortable. So, I went to pick him up and take him to the doctor. He's teething and has a chest cold. I knew that. But, on Friday, they called again since he'd fallen and cut his eye on a table. He'd been trying to walk and fell over. So, I went to get him again. His eye was watering when we got home, so I took him back to the doctor. Turns out, he scratched his actual eye ball. They tried to put an eye patch on so he wouldn't rub his eye, but Jack basically started flailing around in the doctor's office - so much to the point that it looked like he was seizing. So, they sent us home with some eye drops. I thought he'd have a terrible black eye, but it looks like it's healing pretty well. And of course, there will be no permanent damage. I actually brought the incident report from day care in with me to the doctor - I am terrified that they'll take one look at my kid and report me to Child Protective Services. He's got bruises all over his head in various colors from all the knocks and bumps he's taken with learning to walk.
I actually tried finding a baby Pirate costume or a baby Boxer costume for him to wear on Halloween. I couldn't really come up with anything, so I got him a Sock Monkey costume. They had like three options to choose from at Party City, and this one was the least annoying. Plus, it's big enough that he can wear some heavier clothes underneath - not that we're planning on doing a marathon Trick-or-Treat session, but you never know with Minnesota. I remember my dad carrying my sister and I through a raging snow storm one year. It's been known to happen.
Anyways, yesterday was a pretty low-key day. We went over to my parents' for a bit, and Jack got to watch some football with Papa Puff.
When we came home, Jack went down for a quick nap while I made some chili. Then, since it was such a nice day, we headed up to the park.
We didn't stay too long, but we did some swinging and sliding and explored all around the park, looking at various wood chips.
If you really want to compare how much he's grown, go back to my St. Patrick's Day post when he first went on a swing ride...and now here come the weepys again...
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