Butters turns one

 

 I’m quite behind on my posts lately. Pretty much sums up every other area of my life as well. To sum up the past few months; coldpocalypse 2015 is still in full force, we did have a handful of days that were fever, snot, cough, and rash free. Glorious days they were.  I’ve convinced myself that since Butters has had roughly 27.3 viruses this fall/winter then it is proof that he is an overachiever. He’s working his way through the long list of childhood viruses all in his first year. Then there are other days when I think surely there is something wrong and that he probably has some major undiscovered disease that is causing him to catch every virus within 200 miles. 

In other news, he can now make a piece of beef jerky his bitch. This kid has 16 teeth. He is one. 16 TEETH! All that is left to come in are his 2yr molars. For dinner now we just toss him a steak and he’s good to go.

Butters is walking. This just happened this week. He’s been taking a step or two here and there for a couple weeks. This week he realized the power and fun of it and is getting increasingly brave. He looks drunk. It’s pretty adorable. I really want to wrap a scarf around his head, put some jewelry and black eyeliner on him, and film him looking like a wee little Jack Sparrow aka Keith Richards. 

Butters is less than talented and gifted when it comes to speech. He “talks” plenty, but it sounds like how I imagine an Ewok would sound. (I’m sure the Ewoks did make sound, I can’t remember exactly what it sounded like, feel free to roll your eyes at my lack of Star Wars knowledge). He chirps and chatters, says something that sounds like “dog” which he uses for everything. He does shake his head no while saying “no no no”. Clearly a word he’s heard a time or two. He may not say momma or dadda yet but he can moo and growl like a boss! Monkey noises? He’s got it down! As long as he is able to get his “moo” and “mamma” down without mixing them up I’m good. 

Last but not least, I now have a 1 year old! WTF?! When the hell did that happen? I still feel like the dazed, sleep deprived, clueless new mom. I still am, but I’ve had a year to get used to things and I still feel just as exhausted. I used to be a multi-tasking master. I loved hosting parties, planning out a menu, making sure all the guests had their drinks topped off as I made the rounds at the party. I of course had a birthday party for Butters. Over-the-top, with lots and lots of people, none of which he will remember. However my usual pre-child, multi-tasking, party-throwing self I was not. I ditched the themed menu last minute and went for pizza. I still made cute cupcakes, I have, thank god, kept a bit of my Martha intact. Food was served on paper plates rather than real dishes like I usually insist on. (Disclaimer so people don’t send me hate mail: I could care less what other people serve or do for their parties. Planning and prepping is a little stressful but I LOVE doing it. I love planning menus and the kind of cupcakes or cake and decor. I put a lot into planning and therefore I am picky about how it turns out. I totally get that cussing at yourself 30 minutes before guests arrive because your cupcakes don’t look anything like the ones on Pinterest isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.)

On one hand, having some of my anal-retentive tendencies go by the wayside is probably a positive result of mommy brain. I’m not so jaded to think that there won’t be tons more parties where takeout is served on paper plates. There may even be a store-bought cake in my future. 

On the other hand, two days after the party my husband found a paper party plate on top of the fridge. I very vaguely remember putting it there. I have no idea why. I’m sure I started at least two plates of food for myself. God only knows where they ended up. I barely remember conversing with anyone. I’m sure if I did I was pretty boring to talk to. I’m vaguely aware when having a conversation, of my utter lack of ability to focus enough to ask meaningful questions about the other person’s life. Lately conversations go something like this:

 “Oh Tina Hi! How are you?”  

As she’s answering, Butters is pulling down my pants as he tries to climb my leg. I say some “uh huhs” and “oh that sounds exciting!” as I try to discreetly hold my pants up. I then get distracted by a wet feeling on my arm as I notice Butters licking my arm and then wiping his snot across my shoulder. I look for a nearby napkin while trying to remember what Tina just asked me or even what the hell we just talked about. Butters is yanking my earring while I try and calmly say “gentle” like we’ve been teaching him. Then Butters sneezes, two big snot trails come out of his nose and I dash off to find something to wipe it on before he uses my hair. That’s as far as a conversation ever gets. 

The brief conversations I remember at the party were honestly nice. It was good to be with family and friends that helped us get this far. Wyatt had a blast.  He discovered that he loves a crowd of people singing and clapping for him. He lapped the attention right up like the little salty ham that he is. It was really great to be able to celebrate the fact that Butters, my husband and I, our marriage and our sanity survived the first year. That’s really what the first birthday party is for right?

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