Baby Beck turned one!

We had a little party for Baby Beck to celebrate his first year. We have been trying to keep things simple around here so we had a small family party and kept the decorations easy and minimal. There was no theme other than to celebrate our baby boy. The weather wasn't very nice and at the last minute we decided to do everything in the house. The great thing about turning one is that you have no idea what is going on and, unlike your older brother, do not have overly specific requests for cakes and decor. It was a happy afternoon for a happy little one year old.

Happy Day

Yesterday was Baby Beck's birthday and we spent it doing Baby Beck things. Well, maybe more the things that Anderson told me Baby Beck wanted to do (which surprisingly sounded a lot like the things Anderson likes to do). Since Gabe had to work, we started by going to an early morning pancake breakfast before he headed out and then I spent the whole rest of my day having fun with my boys.

The morning started with plenty of fun with wilted helium balloons from the party...favorite gift by far

 then out for pancakes

 which you LOVE

 and so does Anderson

 whom you also LOVE (maybe even more than pancakes)

 You were lucky enough to receive the ever popular giant number birthday balloon ("buh, buh, buh!!!!")

 Anderson was very good about sharing and playing with you the whole day

 He told me you wanted to go on the carousel. Twice.

 And see the Easter Bunny

 I think maybe he liked that more than you.

 He also said you needed to have Easter cookies.

 Clearly he was correct.

 Anderson pushed you around like a very helpful big brother.

 You got some new jeans (and Anderson a new shirt).

 And we walked back and forth over the bridge for absolutely no reason at all (again, Anderson said you really, really wanted to)

You both napped for a bit

 and then we headed to Grandma and Grandpa's house.

 Your brother gave you impromptu birthday hugs all day long

 and we tried our hardest to take our own picture (nice carrot, Anderson).

 You had spaghetti for dinner (your favorite)

 and your brother and I sang a pretty fabulous rendition of "Happy Birthday" to you.

 You were happy.

One

Baby Beck,
Today you are one. I have written so many things about how fast the year has gone, how I feel like we just brought you home, how I can't believe this day is already here; but none of them seem to express what I really want to say to you which is that I love you to pieces. I love you more and more each day and I honestly never thought I could open my heart this much. You are such a blessing to this family and our world is better because you are here.

This year you have grown from the tiniest baby I had ever seen, much less held, into a sweet, happy, teetering little guy on the verge of taking your first steps. You have conquered sleeping, teething, and solids and you are beginning to make utterances that we swear are real words. "Ba" clearly equals ball. Or balloon. Or baba. Either way, you are absolutely right! You are becoming our own person, you are finding your way, and are happily independent.

As I have forged through trying to be a good mom to two boys this year you have remained my faithful side kick. You have given me the strength t keep going on days when I felt I couldn't and you have done nothing but make me feel I must be doing something right. You are my buddy. Anderson has been a daddy's boy from the get-go, but you are happiest with your mama. It is only a matter of time before you, too, discover that Daddy is the sweet spot, that he is the giver of candy and chocolate milk and will do just about anything to keep you from getting upset. So for now I am taking it all in, enjoying every reach of your arms, every snuggle before bed, every nuzzle I can get. I feel a connection to you that I cannot explain. A feeling that ties us together in a special way that I am fairly certain will cause us to battle at times, but that will be something nobody else will ever understand or experience.

Baby Beck, you are loved beyond words.

Happy birthday, baby. My gift to you is an open heart and all the love I have. I love you always.

xoxo,
Mommy

Cake

Mom's birthday was last week and Sarah made this:

I don't generally even like any cake that's not lemon or chocolate, but I am still thinking about this one. Maybe it's because I haven't had sweets since Lent began, but I think really it's just because it was that good.

Dinner | macaroni and cheese

Rare in this house that there is ONE version of ONE meal that everyone in this house will eat. The baby is still working on chewing solids, the toddler would be content to eat chicken, broccoli and carrots every single night of the week, the vegetarian, well, he's a not-so-vegetable-loving vegetarian, and the cook (that's me) will eat just about anything and always makes at least 2 variations of any one dish.

I've gotten very good at coming up with quick ways to alter most things into a vegetarian version using a variety of "fake" meat products and vegetables, but I really just love when I can make one thing with no changes and no extra pots and pans. Macaroni and cheese the way my dad used to make it is a staple that makes it into the rotation about every other week.

I've made a lot of macaroni and cheese recipes, but this one that really has no recipe at all is one of my favorites. Everything my dad cooks is my favorite, really. No rue, no making a cheese sauce, no spending $20 to make mac and cheese. Just layering tons of cheese, tomatoes, macaroni, and onion in a pan. Easy. And I suppose you could add a salad or sprinkle in some broccoli, but why do people always try to ruin intentionally non-healthy recipes with all of that healthy stuff. I guess I'm a purist.

Macaroni and Cheese with Tomatoes
There are no set measurements for this. Everything is "to taste". It can be prepared in any size baking dish, or even in a single layer on a cookie sheet if you like the macaroni extra crunchy. We eat a ton of it, so this recipe makes a large casserole which would feed probably at least 6 civilized humans.

1 pound macaroni, cooked and drained according to package (make sure to add lots of salt to the water)
1/2 onion, diced finely
garlic powder / granulated garlic (not garlic salt, that's totally different)
1 lb. cheese, grated (probably won't need all of it, but the more, the better)
1 14 oz. can crushed or diced tomatoes (both are good, just depends on how you like it and which one you have in the cupboard)
1 small can tomato sauce
small pats of butter
salt and pepper (lots!)

Preheat oven to 425.
In a large casserole pan, sprinkle a few pieces of butter, followed by a layer of macaroni. Sprinkle liberally with salt, pepper, and garlic. Sprinkle onions on top. Drizzle tomato sauce and tomatoes and cover the entire layer with cheese. Repeat until the pan is full. Throw it in the oven for about 45 minutes or until crispy on the edges and all melted inside. The longer you cook it, the deeper the tomato flavor becomes, which is most definitely a good thing.

Napping

I came home the other day to find this:

Mad.

"I'm mad! I'm maaaaaaad!!!!" you screamed from behind the play room door where you had put yourself in a time out. Only minutes before we had been playing, laughing, and having fun. Then you got in trouble for God only knows what (who can keep track, really) and your response to my telling you no was to chuck a Hot Wheel at my face. I sent you upstairs while I wiped the blood from my lip and tried to think rationally. Is it terrible that if you were anyone other than my sweet boy I probably would have thrown that Hot Wheel right back at you?

It is so hard knowing the right thing to do. To know what an "appropriate" response to any given situation may be. To react in a way that is authoritative without being mean; to discipline in a way that teaches, rather than serves only to punish. There is no chapter in "The Happiest Toddler on the Block" about handling small metal objects being thrown at your face at point blank range. I've looked. I have no idea what I'm doing, all I know is that it always feels like the wrong thing.

"Sorry"s were said and tears were shed on both parts and all the while Baby Beck was downstairs screaming his head off (add that to the equation and the difficulty of the situation increases exponentially) and, unbeknownst to me, making his way up the first five stairs. Must put up baby gate asap. Ten minutes have now passed and in that time you have screamed and cried again, offered a toy to your brother with a smile, closed yourself behind the door and growled a bit, giggled like a crazy person, and hugged me and told me you love me.

I suppose that being three gives you license to just experience emotions how they come. I, on the other hand, am still having to hold back my anger at the now swelling lip (though the spontaneous "I love you" helped immensely). Why can't I have a time out? I'm the one who needs it.

One more to go

Beck's birthday party is this Saturday and, other than design and mail the invites, I haven't done a thing. Planning on something small, simple, handmade, and (obviously) Baby Beck-centered. Must get to work.