Andrew said so.

So, one day last week, my brother, Andrew, told me that I need to start a blog. And, apparently I cave easily to peer pressure, because here I sit. Smack dab in the middle of my couch. A box of tissues on one side. A mug of tea that has now gotten cold, on the other. I'm battling (no doubt) some viral syndrome that made its way into my home last weekend during my son's 1st birthday party.  Quinn is his name. Perhaps you've figured this out from my cleverly chosen blog title. As I thought about this blog idea and what I would actually "blog" about, my mind was clouded by thoughts of woodland animal cupcake toppers, fruit kabobs and a note that needed written reminding me to call iParty to change all of the balloon ribbons to brown, instead of alternating colors. Seriously, it's all in the details, right? Yes, I was "that Mom" that went a little nuts-o planning her one-year old's birthday party. I decided (months ago), in my state of party-planning delirium that a DIY (do-it-yourself) event was in order. So, when this blogging idea was proposed, I thought, what a great first blog - "showcase" my hours of stamping, cutting, baking, etc. 'pinterest-style' on a page all my own. I intend to do just that, but lets consider this a pre-blog if you will. Seeing that it has taken me near two hours to get to this point, the thought of figuring out how to add photos seems quite daunting. 

I anticipate much of this blogging will be about my son, Quinn. After all, I spend the majority of my time with him. (They, whoever "they" are, were not kidding when they say 'becoming a parent will be life-changing.') That might be a slight understatement. But, I digress. So, Quinn. He's a funny kid. The following is an excerpt from a scrapbook I created for him, as we celebrated that crazy, over-decorated, exhausting, DIY, 1st birthday.

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You prefer being naked instead of clothed. You suck your thumb when tired or bored. Your smile is infectious. You have no teeth. You know how to flip pictures on Daddy’s iPhone. You’ve never had formula. You like to dance. You are cautious. You will take up any opportunity to bang on the computer. You slept through most of your 1^st airplane flight. You are the life of our party. You have never required a sick-visit to the doctor’s office. You hate getting your diaper changed. Your eyes are an indescribable shade of blue. You never really wore newborn clothes. At nine months you could wave bye-bye, high-five and fist bump. You started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks. You enjoy using a banana as a telephone. Since you’ve found your nose, you won’t stop picking it. You prefer a pile of books to a pile of toys. You rolled over at 2-weeks old. Only Daddy cuts your nails. You are obsessed with other babies. You put everything in your mouth. Your first laugh was at Daddy making faces in the mirror. You like to give handshakes. You fight sleep like it’s your worst enemy. You like to chew on sweatshirt strings. You are curious. You do not like to cuddle. You have selective hearing. We had the hardest time getting you to like carrots. You once swallowed half a tissue. You like to crawl inside of your designated cupboard. You were cranky on your first Christmas. You like to hold onto the dishwasher when it’s running. We once found you 3/4^th the way up the stairs, and then we knew you could climb. For such a small person, you take up the majority of a queen-sized bed. You don’t like going through the car wash. You are most playful in the mornings and most fussy in the evenings. If you were a girl, your name would have been Quinley. You love to climb onto the vacuum. One of your first imitations was saying “uh oh.” You like cars. No less than three people always stop in stores and comment on your big blue eyes. You like to play with peoples’ watches. You take vitamins every night. You love bath time. You like Cheez-Its. You talk with Daddy about stocks while sitting in his leather chair. Daddy puts Carmex on your lips, and this makes Mommy angry. You enjoy making blanket tents. You like to play with the laundry basket. You almost always take your socks off during naptime and throw them out of your crib. Your newest trick is taking your pants off whenever you choose. You are handsome. You like blanket-racing around the house. You like to play peek-a-boo behind the pantry door. You love to watch the washing machine spin clothes. You like to touch people’s teeth. You have a plugged tear duct in your left eye. Your kisses are slobbery. You are loud. You cry at the sound of the tape gun. You like bouncy-balls. You are perfect to us today and always. And we love you.

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So, I'm sure I've managed to break a few blogging rules, if there are such rules. I claim not to be an even mediocre writer, my sentences won't always be complete, I overuse commas because I like them, and as this is the case, run-on sentences will rule my blog. I don't really care. I'm here to share my experiences as mother, wife, nurse, and crazy party-planning lady. To maybe make a reader laugh. And, because my brother said so.