Jackson is turning ONE in 12 hours and thirty five minutes. (yes, I'm at work, but I'm on my lunch break). It's exciting for him I'm sure, but maybe, not so much as it is for me. I mean, he won't recall the special cupcakes from Party Favors that I ordered, after refinancing my house, that were adorned with blue frosting and a choice of lobster, starfish, or colorful guppies on the top. And, he probably won't remember nor care, that his birthday at Nana's house was perfectly coordinated with a cute monkey theme and silky monkey lovey that I gave him as a gift. The lovey was actually on the floor by his crib last night, after it plummeted to it's death in a heap. And there was sweet little Jackson, curled up and fast asleep with his old school lovey - his patriots blanket with a dumb bear head attached it. Never think you can "choose" a child's lovey. It just doesn't work that way.
The lesson I learned: One year old birthdays are for the mom. Really. They are a time to reflect about the incredible year, remember the horrid pain you went endured for your little miracle, and to celebrate the exciting years to come. And, keep it all in perspective . . . a one year old loves the cardboard box that the xylophone was neatly packaged in. He adores the sounds of his family singing happy birthday to him, not necessarily the baby einstein rattle that serendes him with Chopin. Take a moment to remember that it is *what you do* that he'll remember forever, not what he has . . .
