"I'm two!"

Oliver's second birthday was yesterday, and it was definitely a very fun day.  He spent the morning helping me clean up the upstairs of the house, do some laundry, and pick up the cupcakes for his party.  After some playtime outside, lunch, and a three-hour nap that almost ran into party time, he was in a great mood for our more than 40 guests.

I knew when I decided to do a birthday party that I didn't want something traditional.  Oliver's too young to do a lot of playing with other kids, per se, but he does like seeing people he knows and doesn't mind having other kids over.  I didn't want the work of all the accoutrements of a kids party (games, favors, etc.), nor did I want a bunch of new toys for Ollie.  So I decided we'd do a drop-in. I invited over 50 people -- neighbors that we've met, some of whom have kids; friends from Peabody who know and have met Oliver; one of Wes's colleagues with his family; and even a new friend from the neighborhood who also went to Davidson (though a year or two ahead of me).  I sent out an invitation specifying that people should come between 4 and 5 (not from 4 to 5) and that they should bring no presents.  Turns out when you offer cupcakes, just for dropping by for a few minutes, with no expectations of a gift, people show up -- in droves.

I did manage -- in addition to cleaning the house top to bottom and doing about 5 loads of laundry -- to put up a "Happy Birthday!" sign and arrange some balloons that a dear and very helpful friend brought.  I also made a slide show of Oliver's first two years, set to music, to play on the television -- and that someone made fun of me for later (and that almost made me cry when I watched it).  People started coming right around 4pm and didn't stop until almost 5:30pm.  And while I was comfortable with having this party without Wes there -- he had a shift from 9am-5pm -- I didn't realize that it meant I would be alone in mixing and mingling with these many guests.  I managed it, of course, but it's fair to say that I was totally worn out the by the end of it all.  But it was so much fun!  We sang "Happy Birthday!" to Ollie about 15 minutes after people started arriving, which made him really nervous.  Everyone loved the cupcakes.  The kids migrated into the backyard at that point to play with Oliver's outside toys.  He did a good job sharing, though there were some pouty lip moments when someone else took the lawnmower.  My friend Rachel, who brought the balloons, stepped in as a surrogate mom (since Oliver knows her and will go to her for comfort) while I mingled with the partygoers.  She helped Oliver feel comfortable in the masses of people and throngs of children, and she stepped in when he got upset.  It was a huge help to not be his sole source of comfort through all this, and I think we both enjoyed it more as a result.


When Wes got home around 6:30pm, we did the whole thing again.  We repeated some of the traditions we started last year -- cupcakes with the Happy Birthday hat, pictures in the bathtub, and a new height mark in the closet (He's now 29.5 pounds, 68%tile, and 35 inches, 63%tile.  He grew 5 1/2 inches in the last year.  According to this calculation, he'll top out at 5' 10.5", about his daddy's height).

It was a great day.  I was tired, very tired, at the end, but it was worth it.  Ollie probably won't get another birthday party until he's five and has some opinion about who should be there.  And I still don't know if we'll do presents.  He was gifted this year by his grandmother with a lift-the-flap-book, some children's CDs, and (most importantly) a John Deere tractor and hauling trailer, which he takes to bed at night.  Wes and I got him new sheets with old-fashioned pick-up trucks on them.  And my sister got him several super-cute t-shirts, including a "Big Brother" t-shirt that we'll probably save for January.  Two of our party guests also broke the rule and contributed two more books to his every-growing library, and my dear friend Kim sent him a gift certificate to add to that library.

I spent Saturday afternoon teaching Oliver to say, "I'm two!".  He couldn't quite get down the two fingers, but he did learn the phrase.  Unfortunately, he won't say in front of almost anyone.  Not to anyone at the party.  Not to his daycare teachers.  Not even on video for posterity.  But he is two nonetheless, and his ticker now counts down to 3.  Happy birthday, sweet boy.