Why My Son's 2nd Birthday Has Me Up All Night

It's 3:26am and I just finished hand placing every balloon exactly where it needs to be. I didn't begin with the intention of staging EVERY balloon, it just sort of happened.

I also did the dishes, de-greased the stove for the first time --DJM (don't judge me) we've only lived in this house for like 2 months-- and of course, wrapped presents in all Mickey colors.

Mickey is his favorite and he's turning 2. Overdoing it is impossible.  

I should've gotten more balloons...

De-greasing the stove came after I rearranged his toys. Animals needed to be with the animals, carstrucksandtrains in the general "vehicle" section, balls with the balls -- it needed to be done.

What else can I do to avoid going to sleep(?), which would be me admitting that my son is actually TWO YEARS OLD... and clearly I can't do that.

24 months ago, at this time, I was actually 4 hours away from going into labor... which means technically, it won't be his exact birth time until 11:01 tonight, so maybe I don't have to officially accept that he's growing up until then.

This is a happy day! We're going to Disneyland for goodness sakes! DISNEYLAND! The land of magic and sparkles and magic and SPARKLES! We have the best kid on planet earth! What is there to be sad about? Wait, I'm not really SAD. There has to be some other emotion that feels oddly similar to sadness, that instead is a weird version of happy-loving-nostalgia.

Is there an emotion called: MY SON IS GROWING UP SO FAST AND IT'S KIND OF FREAKING ME OUT?

It's just perplexing. Time just passed so... fast! It's like minutes were only 1/2 minutes or something.

We're gonna have the best day ever celebrating our little man. I mean, I just hand placed every balloon just for his breakfast display -- it's already epic. And no matter how little sleep I get, tomorrow (today, whatever) will be perfect. It's HIS day.

But just for a moment longer, I'm letting myself be in this space... where I recapture every second of the past 2 years and soak up the perfection that it was. Where I look at my hands and can literally feel the first touch of his hair.

The first time he said "Maaaaaaa!"

The first time we shared an inside joke.

The first time he held my face and said "I love you Mommy" (slowly and passionately, like the soap operas) -- only our kid could deliver his first Iloveyou like THAT.

The first time he started loving dirt... climbing... rocks... BOY STUFF. And then flowers... birdies... self-induced laughter... LIFE STUFF.

The first time he prayed.
Mickey made an appearance in his third or fouth prayer... still waiting for Mommy and Daddy...

There's a lot bundled up in the first 2.

Sidenote -- is it just me or is the Youtube "yule log" more emotion-inducing than an actual real life fire?

Alright Mom.
Self.
Superwoman.
Get it together. 

As soon as this beautiful big boy wakes up, it's GO TIME. And it's already perfect because he's here.

Happy Birthday Buddy. Mommy and Daddy love you more than we'll ever know how to say. Let's goto Disneyland...