On Sunday our little bear celebrated her first birthday! Now, before I dive in to the delights of the day, just one little side note: I’m not at all sad about Norah turning one. It’s not a bittersweet moment for me. I don’t wish I could turn back time. This past year has been an amazing, exciting and emotional adventure, possibly the best year of my life so far, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it all over again. Yes, it’s crazy that she’s already one, but sooooo much has happened and I think it all happened at the perfect pace and I’m really, really happy. We’re really, really happy. And we can’t wait for all the new adventures that await us. Yes, yes, yes one day when she’s a teenager and screaming that we’re ruining her life because we told her she can’t spend the night at her slutty friend’s house due to the general knowledge that said friend has been seen many a night at the Stumblin’ Pig, we may experience a bit of nostalgia for the days when all she wanted was for us to hold her and hug her and play with her. But for now, things are just as they should be.
So, enough of that. On her glorious first birthday, a most happy and wonderful day, Pete decided he was going to make her a cake. He’s a damn good baker, that hubs of mine. He spoils me with scratch made biscuits every week and makes the absolute greatest chocolate chip cookies. It’s a good thing too because my baking skills are nill. I cook. Cooking doesn’t require precise measuring. For someone so anal retentive, controlling and semi-OCD you’d think baking with all its necessary precision and accuracy would be right up my alley. Tis not. I’m just not any good and Pete is better than good, so I’ll let him handle the baking and I’ll handle the eating. Poor me.
Cake making snappies!
To be continued…