So, last Sunday we watched an old family video of Jordan's first birthday. Aside from laughing at my ridiculous sense of fashion and groaning at how truly horrible my hair was nine years ago, I spent a good bit of time marveling at the elaborateness of that first birthday celebration.
I decorated. I made invitations. I filled my tiny apartment so full of people, I'm surprised there was enough air to breathe. I made a big fancy cake, served dinner to everyone, had a stack of presents, beautifully wrapped. For fifteen minutes, the video focused on Jordan and I, sitting on the floor while I gently coaxed him into opening his presents. When he managed to rip off one little shred of wrapping paper, everyone cheered.
Now, I can see why everything was such a big deal. Jordan was the first grandchild on both sides of the family. And he was 1! He was alive! I was alive! Let's have a party!
Fast forward to the first birthday of my fourth child... Um, I'm sure we did something. Let me think... Was it Henry's first birthday that I stuck a candle on top of a blueberry muffin and called it a day? I can't remember. I think I probably bought him a new toy while we were at Walmart. I might have even let him carry it the whole way up to the check out line.
Okay, so yes. It SOUNDS completely lame, but really. The kid won't remember a single thing about his first birthday. And since I hardly have any pictures to document the poor child's existence as it is, photos of a big, elaborate first birthday party would really just seem out of place.
Birthdays weren't the only thing done differently back in single child land. Back then, I used a baby monitor.
In our two bedroom, 600 square foot apartment.
Did I really think I wouldn't hear the kid if he cried? Fifteen feet away from me? I mean, we slept with our doors open, for Pete's sake. I could hear him breathing WITHOUT the monitor. And yet, I still used it. Heaven forbid, I might have to walk to the living room while baby slept!
Nowadays, I have four different baby monitors for Ivy. They all yell, in varying degrees of loud, "MOMMY! THE BABY IS CRYING!!"
Life was certainly different back then. Sometimes I miss all the time I had to sit around and watch Jordan just being a baby. It's a luxury not often allowed with baby number 4 or 5. But then, baby number 4 and 5 get a Mommy with much better hair, so it all must balance out in the end.
*I checked my files. This picture is the only one taken on April 24, 2008, on Henry's first birthday. Apparently, all I gave the poor child was a tube of Neosporin. Happy Birthday, kid. Don't use it all in one place.
