For the many who have asked how many children we plan to have, all I can say is that we are in the middle of tense negotiations on that matter.
Seriously though, children have been a blessing to us and we’ll see what the future holds, but we aren’t putting limitations on the number of children in our home just yet.
Back to our daughter and her first birthday celebration. As a parent of multiple children, I think I can fairly say that the first birthday is the funniest. I say that only because the child has no idea what is happening. They don’t understand birthdays. They don’t know what all the fuss is about. They just enjoy all the attention, and the cake.
For our first born, the first birthday of our first child was a huge deal. We invited everyone within a 100-mile radius to come celebrate and we spent lots of time and money putting on a huge celebration.
Unfortunately for the third child, she gets the short end of the stick. We’ve been there, done it. For her birthday, we have a few friends over and buy a little cake for her. The dirty little secret in parenting is that a birthday party for a 1-year-old is actually all about the parents. We invite our friends to visit because what 1-year-old actually has a “friend?”
However, the birthday cake was an adventure. We positioned the cake on her high chair directly in front of her and she gave us a strange look as if to say, “What are you doing? You realize that this pastry is within my reach and in a moment I plan on tearing it apart, right? I will not be held responsible for what is about to happen ... last warning!”
It was at that moment that she dove in ... literally. In only seconds, she had frosting and cake in her hair, on her body, in her diaper (still not sure how that happened), but she had fun.
Unfortunately, we made the mistake of buying a cake with pink frosting that seemed to “stain” rather than wash off. I am not just talking about clothing. I am referring to skin. Our beautiful 1-year-old baby had what appeared to be the smile of the menacing Joker from the “Batman” movies, with pink frosting smeared across her face; although, it was nothing that a little sandpaper and heavy duty degreaser couldn’t fix. For those of you unfamiliar with my sad sense of humor, that was a joke. We do not clean our children with sandpaper ... no matter how tempting this may sound.
The party is over and she is now 1. So what is next? Cleaning frosting off the ceiling. How did that get there?
(Editor’s Note: Matt has a beautiful family: his wife, son, two daughters, Tucker the family dog and nine chickens. Yes, that is one less than last week. Don’t ask. Matt’s column appears every other Wednesday in the Cleveland Daily Banner.)