I had to keep our day packed and busy, because I've been on the brink of tears since I put James to bed last night.
For some reason, the first birthday milestone is a lot harder for me the second time around.
The little man woke up early, as usual, and was irritated with me when I tried to cradle him after I pulled him out of his crib.
He had things to do and people to see and no sentimental woman was going to get in his way.
I told him he could do whatever he wanted all day long, it being his birthday and all.
So he immediately got to work -- standing up in his high chair, spitting his food all over the floor (which is his favorite way to crack himself up), watching the laundry spin, making hats with coffee filters (the apartment is stocked with the things) and banging the unused coffee pot into every hard surface he could find.
It's a good thing he's so cute...
We spent his birthday afternoon on Lake Union with friends.
Nothing like a little birthday story time on a tugboat.
Next Captain James stepped aboard the S.S. Virginia V, where we tasted kettle corn and sweet potato pie from the farmer's market and took control of the ship just because we could.
And then the children fed the geese -- giving the mothers minor panic attacks each time they stepped too close to the edge of the dock.
James was thrilled to chat with his aunties on Skype.
Either that, or he was thrilled to be left unattended for five minutes with my laptop.
The child knows how to open programs and change settings I didn't even know existed.
Maybe he's a computer prodigy, because we have no idea how to undo what he did.
Daddy came home and gifts were presented.
The boy seemed thrilled with his main spoil, and I'm hoping it will hold his interest for more than a day or two.
The minute we busted out the balloons, I regretted buying him a gift.
Because when it comes to my kids, nothing holds a candle to a floating balloon.
The best part of James's birthday came in the form of about 100 sailboats.
We looked out our window to see them filling the bay (must have been a race of some sort), and snuck up to the roof for a better look.
I think years from now we'll pull out these photos and tell our son we arranged to have this little show put on just for him.
Maybe he'll believe us.
Since we're still trying to get the sugar out of James's system from his last birthday cake, we went with something a little simpler this time around.
And by simpler, I mean I bought a slice of chocolate cake from Safeway and let Lola help me decorate it with nasty gel frosting that happened to be on sale.
The boy was not happy about having frosting all over his hands.
Nor was he happy about being torn from the remnants of his birthday treat.
Catch 22, I suppose.
It was a lovely day, and I hope our boy felt special and loved and happy.
He certainly deserved to.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to cry myself to sleep over the fact that my baby is not really a baby anymore.