and this is why we can’t have nice things.

so many times i plan tutorials for you guys. cute little easy-to-make dresses that i plan on taking step by step photos of and blogging a nice how to.

and i cut out all my pieces and lay them out, thusly:

and then…

do you kind of feel like the jaws music should be playing right now? because i do. de-dent, de-dent, de-dent-de-dent-de-dent-de-dent

oh, were you trying to take a picture of this?

because i was thinkin’ it looked like fun to toss around.

here, you wanna try?

good thing she’s cute.

so just know this…

this is what i started with:

and this is how i ended up:

but if you want to get there too you’re on your own. my little land shark has seen to that.

1 @ 12, 5 @ 12

12 is a big turning point.

12 months is the completing of a year. we don’t usually say “my baby is 12 months”. we say “my baby is 1”.

……

no matter how much we may not want to say it.

my baby…is one.

can i call her a baby anymore? that’s been the subject of much debate around here.

because if she isn’t my baby…who is?

and no, i don’t think i can live without a baby, thankyouverymuch.

but this one who’s one isn’t the only one.

because this one…

 

is also twelve. 12. one-two. tuh-welllve. as in—really, REALLY not my baby. as in—her official “last year of childhood”. as in—next up, the teens.

kelle at enjoying the small things just wrote a beautiful, poignant post about the happy-sads. and that’s how i feel—happysad.
i love the person she’s becoming—the woman. it’s amazing to me. before i had children i would look at women interacting with their grown children and wonder…how do they not walk around in a perpetual state of “i can’t believe this person came out of me.”
and sure, now that i have children i realize well, duh, you can’t walk around in that state of amazement and amusement non-stop. but yes, there’s definitely moments when you think i can’t believe this person—this grown up child-adult came out of me.

and i already waxed poetic last week about her growing up and the stages we’re reaching so i won’t go crazy again here. but let me just say—so far, i’m enjoying the ride. and i don’t WANT to hear about “wait for the teen years” or “you’ll see when she turns 13” because i’m not sticking my head in the sand like it’s not gonna happen—but i LOVE this child and i’m excited and happysad to experience growing up with her.

i don’t want to dread the future, i want to embrace it. because all periods of growth are exciting and scary and messy and dangerous—even when you’re an adult.

************************************

so there they are. my #1, and my #5. my engine and my caboose. the one that made me a mother, and the one that (hopefully??) closed out my child-bearing years.

yes, there’s much of the happysads around the googiehaus.

gettin our princess on.

not much is required for a three year old to be happy.

princess-y stuff: pink, sparkly, frilly

some cups and plates with hearts—bought from the clearance rack after valentine’s day. score.

some pink food—cupcakes, pink wafer cookies, fruit with heart toothpicks and pink dip, sandwiches cut like tiaras with cookie cutters.

even some pink popcorn (which—no lie—was insanely good considering i just popped some on the stove, lightly salted it and then drizzled it with pink candy melt)

simple pink-frosted cupcakes adorned with crowns—the baked confectionary version of glinda the good witch.

and then we add the activities:

princess bubble blowing

princess nail painting

princess necklace making

at the end—bags of princess loot:

of course the most important thing of all? the good princess friends—which for my little weirdo consists of three fellow 3-to-4-ish year olds and one 40-ish year old uncle. gigi’s requested guest list? bryn, maggie, emma and uncle dan.

:)

whatever…friendship can not be limited or dictated by age. and he was kind enough to make an appearance amongst squealing pink-clad girlies.

meghan photo bomb

the recipe for success.