Rounding out my guest blogging birthday extravaganza is Suzanne over at Pretty*Swell. If I had to describer her blog in word it would be: beautiful. Suzanne is a beautiful person and it really shines through her writing. She has quickly become one of my favorite reads and I can’t wait for the opportunity to meet her in real life some day. {Y’all, she recently went to NYC for BlogHer all by herself and did lots of cool NYC things like museums, the public library & eating at local restaurants ALL BY HERSELF. She’s totally my hero.} Oh, and she has a love affair with bacon. This girl is for real.

Her daughter, Small Fry, is a doll &  does quite the job of hamming it up for the camera. A girl after my own heart.

Enjoy!

I’m thrilled to be hanging out at Raising Madison today! I’m a big fan of Joanna and her lovely blog. And of course, a huge fan of the ever-adorable and courageous Madison.

When Joanna suggested that we write about birthdays, the very first thing that came to mind was my 21^st. But no one wants to read about drunken karaoke with swim goggles, right?

Also: I can’t remember much of it. I’m talking to you BOONE’S FARM.

Then I thought of my 31^st birthday, which actually is one of my favorites because something inside me clicked (or exploded, as biological clocks tend to do), and I realized I was ready to become a mother.

But my absolute favorite birthday is the first one.

My daughter’s first.

When Small Fry turned one, I felt like throwing myself a party.

We’d survived!

That first year of parenthood was so unbelievably tough, with the sleep deprivation, the round-the-clock screaming (colic?), the utter shock of life turning completely upside down, the postpartum depression. I thought I’d never sleep again, much less have time to eat an entire meal or shave my legs.

But also? That year was one of the BEST of my life.

I became a mom.

I fell head over heels in love with this little person who completely stole my heart.

Small Fry rocked our world, and when the dust started to settle, I realized I loved our new life more than I’d ever imagined.

Because it has this sweet child in it:

So, on her first birthday, when the sun shone and the February weather turned unusually balmy, I took it as a smile from above.

The universe saying, “You did it. She is awesome. Celebrate!”

So we did. With orange frosted cupcakes and balloons and our family and friends enveloping us in hugs and smiles and love.

Best birthday ever.

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My next guest blogger is hands down one of my favorite reads.  I get positively giddy when I see a new post from her in my google reader. Zakary over at Raising Colorado is witty, charming, honest & her love for Asians is unending. I’ll be honest when I say that I may have peed a little bit when she agreed to post over here while I am away on vacation. Her comedic timing is impeccable & I hope you enjoy her as much as I do!

Hi everyone, it’s ZDub. I never really receive requests to do guest posts, so I welcomed the chance to write one. I’m pretty sure the reason I never get asked is because people are totally afraid I will talk about squirrels or vomit or ninjas, so that’s why I was relieved when Joanna was smart enough to give me a topic, my favorite birthday memory.

For me, my favorite birthday memory is when my children each turned one. That’s right, I’m going to tell you about TWO favorite birthday memories because I apparently cannot follow the rules. Just be grateful it isn’t about squirrels. That vomit. On ninjas. (God, now it kind of is.)

With my oldest daughter, it was super important that I bake her cake from scratch. Let me reiterate that I am not a baker, I can’t bake to save my life, I know my limits, you know? I make a damn good martini, but that isn’t really an appropriate birthday treat you give a one year old, so I baked a cake.

After many hours of research and planning, I decided to make a double layer round yellow cake frosted with pale yellow butter cream frosting. Since it was a Curious George party, I planned on decorating it with candy bananas and jelly palm fronds that I cut by hand out of smashed gumdrops. It would also include edible chocolate monkeys that I painstakingly piped out of scalding hot chocolate onto a template and froze two days in advance.

My darling daughter blew out her candle, was served a piece that she promptly threw on the carpet in my mom’s dining room. She wasn’t having it. I think I made her take a bite because by god, I baked that cake and you better at least take a bite.

She literally showered me with thanks when she woke me up at 2 a.m. vomiting in our bed apparently afflicted with a horrible case of the stomach flu. Or she just really hates cake.

Six years later when my sweet son turned one, I baked the obligatory first birthday cake. I scaled it back a little this time, a sugar free cinnamon banana cake that my sister slathered with butter cream frosting and piped it in pale yellow and covered the whole thing in adorable sprinkles. It was perfect.

My son blew out her candle, took one look at the cake and proceeded to eat only the sprinkles off the entire thing. Come to find out, he was teething and running a fever. Later that evening, he sprouted three teeth, but at least he didn’t vomit.

This is why we currently celebrate birthdays with very special cakes that come from the bakery. It makes me far less spazzy.

And I somehow managed to mention vomiting four times, I can’t be trusted with anything.

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