On Friday, there was this:
And then Saturday, we unleashed the gates of hell...I mean, we invited the whole family and some friends and neighbors to celebrate Jackson's birthday with more cake!* and presents:
He also got to play with a friend**:
Disclaimer: I did not make any of the crafty-type stuffs you see above. What I made was this:
*The cake is from Cake Nouveau in Ann Arbor. The owner has competed (and won!) on Food Network cake challenges, which I became addicted to watching while pregnant and melding with the sofa. That and HGTv. I know how to build, fix, landscape, and/or stage a house, y'all.
**I have a mommy friend! For real!
***I don't count my stepsister and her redneck clan, since I don't really even know her. Plus, I bet she would think my party was lame since it wasn't at Hooters. Backyard barbecue, boring! Not a single stripper or a clown in blackface or a confederate flag or a gun or a can of Bud to be seen!
****Oh, the annoying neighbors. They walked in and stood in front of the small pile of gifts, refusing to put theirs down. I had Jackson in my arms and had to put him on the floor to take the gifts from their hands, pivot 15 degrees, and bend over slightly to place on the pile for them. Then they shouted, "Where's the alcohol?" (When you think, "Kid's first birthday party," don't you always also think, "Let's get shitfaced!"? They pounded a bottle of wine and about half a dozen beers by themselves.) And then...we had made a decision before the party started to not open gifts since Jackson has the attention span of a gnat and the patience of Joan Crawford on a wire hanger rant; everyone seemed to get this. Most everyone. After all but a couple of people (family members) had left, and we were starting to clean up, we realized the neighbors were parked on our sofa staring at us. Drinks in hand, natch. They sternly requested we open their gifts, right then and there, thankyouverymuch. So we did, to avoid their wrath, which is when I captured Jackson's insightful look, above. I look forward to moving, you guys. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to write a thank-you note to these charming people and then sprinkle it with sugar and perfume and maybe wipe my ass with it before mailing.