Tuesday, August 24, 2010

A cupcake for my cupcake

We visited The Cupcakery, a little gem in downtown Dublin, for Harper's first birthday.

We had all sorts of fun decorating and EATING cupcakes.









Life doesn't get much better than that.

Friday, August 20, 2010

We all scream for ice cream.

We kicked off Harper's first birthday with an ice cream party. In an effort to embrace the humid-Ohio-in-the middle-of-August heat, we set-up a sprinkler, baby pool, and ice cream sundae bar. Thanks to some precious friends and dearest family, it was the perfect way to celebrate our baby girl.




















And thanks, Oma & Opa, for letting us take over your house! And Grandma, thank you for the amazing cupcakes.

And thank you, Lord, for an incredible first year with our baby girl.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

It's official.

She's ONE!


And I've never, ever, ever been happier. Thanks to everyone for all of the birthday love. We are beyond blessed.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

The fastest 12 months of my life.













Harper Lynn,

I love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.

*Birthday pictures coming soon!

Friday, August 13, 2010

The Beginning


I love you, Harper Lynn.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Oh. My. Diva.





She might be cute. Scratch that. She IS cute. Stinkin' silly cute. Like crazy how-did-she-get-so-flippin'-cute cute.

But her stinkin' flippin' silly cuteness absolutely pales in comparison to her stinkin' flippin' silly diva-ness.

Oh. My. Diva.

This girl is 5% cute and 100% diva. And if you think those two numbers don't add up to 100%, you're right. Because she's really cute.

Allow me to share a quick story about my diva.

Let me back up. Miss Harper takes her meals on her throne in her hippo chair. The hippo chair is a seat that attaches to a table. We don't have room for a high chair in our kitchen so we have the hippo chair. We nicknamed it the hippo chair because it has hippos on it - I know, we're geniuses. So when Miss Harper is sitting in her hippo chair dining on fresh strawberries and shelled edamame, she insists on climbing out of the chair and onto the table. And you are probably thinking, "Buckle her in, genius." And we do. Really tight. But in addition to being a stinkin' flippin' silly-cute diva, she is also a flippin' magician who can contort her way out of a straight jacket in three seconds flat. Let me tell ya, it's not so cute.

Anywho, today, as she was climbing onto the table, I gently pushed her back into the hippo chair sticking her legs into the hippo chair slots. No big deal. We play this game often. Most of the time she is persistent and climbs back onto the table, I push her back in her chair, and this goes on and on and on and on until eventually I take her out of her seat, set her on the floor, and she cries because she didn't get her way.

Well, today, when I sat her back down in her chair, she gave me the look of death and lost it. Absolutely and completely lost it. She became so upset that she started hyperventilating. You know what I mean - the kind of crying that results in minutes between each gasp for air. She was WAILING. Enormous tears falling off her face, snot bubbling everywhere, smoke brewing from her ears - WAILING. At first I thought that maybe she sat on something. But no, nothing there.

And then it hit me. She's upping the ante. My stinkin' flippin' silly-cute baby girl knows that her usual whimpers only get her so far and then she ends up on the floor. So my little magician genius has upped the ante in the hopes that her bloody-hell WAILING will allow her to get her way.

Um, hello, Miss Harper. My name is Mom. And I don't take no crap from nobody. Not even you, my sweet little angelic darling. Especially not you.

So what happened next? I picked her up. Wiped her down (fresh strawberries and shelled edamame make quite the mess), and followed my instinct. I held her. And just like that, she stopped wailing. Just. Like. That.

And after I cuddled her for a minute and whispered in her ear how much I love her and her crocodile tears, I carried her upstairs and laid her in her bed. And within two minutes, she was out cold.

Because being a stinkin' flippin' silly-cute diva is darn exhausting.