Blake's first birthday party was awesomely outrageous. We planned for a short day, figuring that three hours was the maximum we could expect without a major meltdown. As it turned out, three hours is the perfect amount of time for a children's party because no one has a chance to be exhausted and/or hungry. And Blake had a meltdown anyway; there were just too many people and too much noise in his quiet house. But we're still happy with the short party concept.

Except for Blake's dislike of the party (something that'll be more of a problem in later years because let's face it, we're the supreme dictators for now), it was quite simply the best party I've ever pitched. Lots of people, lots of food, lots of friends, lots of laughing and lots of kindness. I liked being able to show our friends the neat little cave wherein we skulk and I liked feeding our relatives chilli and guacamole and breads of all kinds. I liked that my bedroom functioned so well as the baby chillout room. I liked sitting in my den & talking to friends. (I probably should've spent more time with my relatives, but Christmas is coming and we have lots of time to ignore each other then.) I liked it all, and was sorry to see everyone go home. (Yet another benefit of having a short party: you don't have time to get sick of everyone.)

And there were a lot of people at my house today, many more than I could pay proper attention. First to arrive were my relatives, 7 at a time, then Neil & Laine & little Orion & Noizangel. Laine & Orion needed a bathroom and a quiet place to nurse, so I took everyone downstairs to the bedroom/chillout room. While we were down there, Dirk & Pete's car rolled into the drive and everyone came down the steps. Then Andrea & Marc & Kate and some more relatives. It was like standing on the shore when the tide's coming in; no chance to catch your breath. By the time I knew what was going on, people were digging into the chilli and Dirk had awarded himself one of the medals I bought at the dollar store yesterday.

Dirk: I saw these medals, and I thought, well I'm a winner!
Me: But you don't even know what the contest is!
Dirk: So what's the contest?
Me: (pause) Ok, there isn't one. But there might've been!

By the end of the afternoon, all the other babies were winners. Because it kind of had to be that way.

I just can't get over how many of our friends could make the long trip out to see us today. My little geekparent gang was in almost full attendance (Neil, Laine, Sarah & Leo), Andrea, Marc & Katers came, plus there was a large compliment of childfree friends: Stacy as the Fairy Gothmother, Dirk as the Winner, Exodus as the Newly Bearded but Still the Best Man, Little Spider & Coraline as the Girls in the Corner, Noizangel as the Zen Child Enthusiast and St. Pete as himself. I had a blast hanging out with everyone, talking a mile a minute, wrangling the babies, drinking whenever I had the chance to sit still and eating everything in sight. The Boy had just as much fun in his similar orbit.

Me: Laine tells me that people stop her on the street to tell her how beautiful Orion is.
Noizangel:...which is odd because he looks exactly like Neil.

Even Exodus put aside his studying for an afternoon and took the bus down to us. He spent the first hour he was here standing by the kitchen table and eating his head off. This sent my grandmother into raptures, as she's never so happy as when she has a man to feed up. (That's the after effect of raising five ravenous boys and one somewhat less ravenous girl.) Blake's fairy gothmother was also here, of course. (I really have to encourage her to wear wings more often.) She brought along a baby Ramones shirt (a.k.a. the coolest baby t-shirt ever), so now I have even more reason to blast "Judy is a Punk." Is it wrong that my baby has a cooler t-shirt than me? Heh. I don't think I want to be right.

I always feel bad for children who get an adult party for their birthday, but since we already had our prenatal class birthday party, I didn't have very many babies left to invite. I sent out the word to a few folks (I was afraid of rejection and so kept the list tiny). Andrea, Marc & Kate decided to come and they were the perfect complement to our other friends. I loved having them over to meet everyone; Andrea is Miss Sociable, Katers is a cuddly little Gloriana and I'm even starting to get comfortable with Marc's deep quiet. (Quiet people unnerve me a little and he's more quiet than most.)

Sarah brought fabulous food (of course) and Leo surprised me by bringing along his sketching tools and doing caricatures. He finished a beautiful one of Katers, but Blake was a little too freaked to pose. I kind of wish Blake had calmed down long enough to get a sketch in (what a memento!) but he is what he is. I was just thrilled that Leo was doing the sketches at all.

Noizangel was the last component of the Toronto gang to make the long trek. I just can't get over how much she enjoys babies - Blake & Orion especially - yet is completely uninterested in having her own. It's a beautiful Zen rejection of desire, and one I can only admire. Because when I like something, I want it. Books, songs, babies - I can't admire it without imagining it in my life. Usually people who don't want babies are standoffish and stiff, but Noizangel gets right in there with the continual walking, the baby bounce and the myriad toddler distractions. I love it.

Blake didn't really like noise & heat & confusion of the main party, so we retired to our bedroom every once in a while so that he could get his bearings. I think he would've liked it best if everyone had gone away except the people willing to be quiet in his bedroom. I think LS & Coraline made a very good impression in this regard. But I have to give the boy credit: for a baby who's been down with fever for two full days, he was excellent. And he snapped back to a happy bouncy baby as soon as everyone left. I have to admit; I kind of enjoy the fact that he does most of his impressive stuff for us alone.

Like yesterday: I was giving him his first bath in three days and he was as happy as a kipper on a cracker. During this extra long bath, I pulled out his little comb and straightened his drying hair. I don't ever comb his hair and he was very stoic about the whole experience. When I was done he reached out a hand for the comb, which he then touched to his head. I laughed and cheered as he "combed" his hair. Then he dropped the comb, picked up some links, and touched them to his head. Then he "combed" his hair with his squirty pig.

That's gold material right there. And I get it every day. I love him so much.

the traditional crummy polaroid of the first birthday.
with those colours, it's just like 1976 again!
but you know what? i love this picture anyway.

As I dropped off Opera Sarah at her gaming engagement, a man tapped on my window. When I rolled it down, he made a mumbled plea for "a couple of bucks because [he] felt sick." I thought about it, but I had no change, so I gave him the lowest denomination in my wallet. He hit Sarah up and then wandered away.

"I guess I can take five dollars off my donation tomorrow," I said to Sarah as we hugged goodbye. Her laugh swept me into the car.

I settled in and started to listen to Bill Richardson on the CBC (who was celebrating anniversaries and making tampon angels with other creative folk). When I got to Queen Street, someone started washing my windshield. Oh crap, I thought. Do I have to give him the other bill in my wallet? I don't think I can give away ten dollars to a wiper punk. I rolled down my window again. "I'm sorry; I don't have any money."

He continued to wash the windshield. "That's alright sweetheart, you can get me next time."

"Okay," I said, stunned.

I felt guilty all the way home.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 12/04/2004 10:41:00 p.m.