We’re preparing for Henry’s baby dedication tomorrow. For those of other faiths, that’s the Baptist equivalent of a christening/baptism for a baby. I totally meant to do it when he was younger, before his first birthday, but we just joined a new church. Tomorrow we are having a family celebration for the kids’ birthdays after the service.  (They are 4 and 1 this week if you haven’t followed all my nauseating activity on social media.)

First birthday. Baby dedication. I clean the house and feed everyone once. Boom. It’s a beautiful thing. I picked up the cake today. I just posted this on Instagram:

Greyson says, “Um, why did you get a cross cake? You make us look like zealots or something.” I’ll admit. There is a hint of piousness mixed in that icing. I’m not one for Bible beating or forcing my faith through food or any other means. I just got your standard cake from the grocery store bakery under the “Baptism/Christening/Communion” designs.

Charlotte’s cake for her baby dedication was from a specialty bakery and had her monogram on it. Oh, and it must have been made with holy water and had edible gold flecks in the fondant for the outlandish price I paid. Screw that. I’m not buying that again. Poor second child. He gets grocery store cake.

I will say, there are two things I will NOT STAND FOR when it comes to cake.

1. Almond flavoring- Remember how old-school wedding cakes were RUINED by that stuff? Ugh! It makes it taste like Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper is the devils brew. Speaking of the devil…

2. Whipped icing- At the bakery they asked me if I wanted whipped or buttercream icing. Why would you even ask me that?! I would never subject my sweet babies to whipped icing on their birthdays. It’s “icing lite.” It’s crap. If I’m eating cake, I want cake, not “cake lite.” Beth Anne said it best, “Whipped icing is the devil’s baby batter.”

So true. Lord knows the devil has no place on my holy rolling cake. Can I get an “Amen?”

Back when I was working full time I would constantly find reminders on my clothing that I wasn’t just an employee, but a mother. My babies made sure they left their mark somewhere. I remember a paci in my blazer pocket, a princess sticker on my leg or spit-up on my blouse. Being the sloppy klutz I am, these were usually after I had already spilled coffee on myself.

I got to thinking about Emily. Emily is my former co-worker on maternity leave after the birth of her first baby. She is soft spoken, kind-hearted and fiercely witty. Emily is an incredibly talented writer and I always enjoyed working with her.

 

One morning in the kitchen we were brewing coffee. She was being very polite when she said, “Amy, I was just going to tell you that you have something on your chest right there.” She pointed to my collar bone. I touched something hard but sticky and pulled it off my skin. I looked at my fingers in horror. I held a half-dried, smeared booger. Yep, that’s about right.

I recalled earlier that morning my snot-nosed little girl had smashed her face into me in some traumatic, tearful fit.

Now that I’m part of a yoga pants-clad army of stay-at-home moms, the smears and stains on my clothes are less of a big deal. I think babies want everyone to know, no matter their mama’s job, she’s a mama first. They leave their boogers to prove it. Please tell me I’m not the only one with dried boogers on them.

Guess who gingerly half-walked, half-limped into preschool orientation in flat sandals with no walking cast last night? That’s right! This girl! Just in time to be a bridesmaid in killer 4-inch heels this weekend. Boom. (see above)

I was seriously nervous when my hot doctor walked in with my x-rays. Have I told you about hot doctor? Yeah, I haven’t told my husband either. Whoops. Anyway, hot doctor was all tall, dark and dimpled and said “Your x-rays look great! I think you’re good to go.” I couldn’t believe that great diagnosis came out of that pretty mouth. (Pretty mouth? What is this, “Deliverance?” Come on, Amy.) 

Hot doctor showed me the x-rays and explained the new soft bone that had grown where the fracture is located. He gave me some guidelines for getting back into workouts and doing some rehab exercises. My foot and ankle are stiff and weak, but otherwise okay. Six weeks of immobilization will do that. He said to use pain as my guide as to what I can do. I tried on the heels to see how I walked. Hot doctor told me to wear them down the aisle and to have different shoes for the reception. He said, “You were probably going to do that anyway, weren’t you?” Yes, hot doctor. I was. I’ve never been in a wedding where I didn’t change my shoes. (Except my own, oddly enough.) 

I think what made me the happiest was coming home to my little girl who hugged me so tight and said, “Mama, I’m so glad you’re out of your boot so you can go swimming in the pool with me.” Then I looked up to notice my hot husband had folded laundry and loaded and unloaded the dishwasher. He puts hot doctor to shame.

Our family is in the home stretch before my step-sister’s wedding. I pick up my bridesmaid dress from the tailor shop in a few days. I finally found my little flower girl some shoes to wear with her dress. Tahlia texted me yesterday asking about firming up a videographer. She has samples of the programs. She and my mom were recently discussing the order of service.

The couple has been showered and celebrated. It’s almost time.

I waited to order Henry’s suit until right at the start of August because, you know, the insane growth of 9 month-old’s. Oh, did I forget to tell you my son and my nephew will be MATCHING in these adorable suits?! I was so excited, I had to take some iPhone pics of Henry yesterday. I couldn’t wait. He is getting harder and harder to photograph.

This reminded me of a time this winter when Henry almost cost me a wedding dress. It was February. He was 3 months-old. I was quite a bit puffier and not overly anxious to try on bridesmaid dresses. Alas, it was for Tahlia, so I tucked Henry in the stroller, sucked in my baby belly and barely zipped up several dresses. We weren’t there for me, though. We had to find her dress.

Tahlia tried on gorgeous gown after gorgeous gown. They all looked great on her. It’s ridiculous how stunning each sample dress looked. I was sitting to the side with my step-brother, their mom and our sweet friend Erin. Erin was feeding Henry his bottle. After debating the top two choices, it was unanimous, she found the dress. We were celebrating and being silly. I walked over to the stroller to stash his bottle. Tahlia was dancing around in the dress and wanted to “dance” with Henry. It was adorable. She took him from Erin.

My “mama senses” kicked into gear. I sniffed the air. I knew what it was. I turned and looked up as Tahlia grabbed him. It was like slow motion. I shouted, “Tahlia!!!! No!” She was holding him under the arms. Henry was headed for her hip covered with beautiful organza, or silk or some other fabric you only wear when you get married. I darted between the chairs to grab him just in time.

Bright orange liquid poop was soaking through the cute sock monkey outfit pictured above. This diaper disaster was less than an inch from the dress. Yep, I was less than an inch from being the proud owner of a sample wedding gown. I flashed to this…

 

You say, “Oh, but you could have just cleaned it and Tahlia could’ve worn it.” No, she’s so adorably petite she needed to order an even smaller size. Henry had to be a few ounces smaller after that unloading. Let’s just hope he keeps the suit clean until the family gets through pictures.

It’s midweek. It’s hot. I need to dump my brain. A few things you never needed to know:

1. Yesterday my beloved baby Jeep overheated and I am now the proud owner of a new radiator. I’d show you, but it’s under my hood and I’m a lady. So, no peeking, pervs.

2. Guess who’s wearing shorts from 2008? Me! Boom! Ah 2008,  a magical pre-pregnancy time when we said things like “Yes We Can!” and I was tanned and toned. There is hope ladies. We can wear them again. “Yes We Can!” (Notice I’m also wearing a baby from 2013.)

3. This week is Princess Camp for Charlotte which cracks me up, because she’s a 3 1/2 year-old girl. Her life is freakin’ princess camp. Today is “Frozen” day and she and Erin’s daughter, Miss E, were killing us with the twinsy cuteness.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!