PEPS Party

What does PEPS stand for? If I ever knew, I forgot long ago. Parents of Exceptional People or something like that. Whatever it stands for, these are the women who have helped me survive my first year as a mom. All of our babes turn one in July and August, so we had a birthday bash to celebrate. John took a pic of us before heading out and I wanted everyone to see that Owen wiggles away from even the tender arms of his mother.

Here are all the moms and babes

Owen hogging the ball, no surprise
And this was when everyone else was eating cupcakes, but Owen couldn't be torn away from his foreign beauty

ONE!!

The pop of the champagne cork celebrated the moment we crossed th finish line at 5:19 pm yesterday afternoon. Owen is officially a year old! Is it coincidence that he woke up from his nap at 5:16, just in time to share in the toast? I think not, though he had apple juice. We had a lovely day together, much more relaxing than the rip-roaring delivery (as our nurse called it) that brought us all together last year. We went for a family run at Discovery Park, Owen cheering us along with his rattle, pet the goats at the zoo to celebrate our membership that my mom gave us, and visited friends with a tiny 8 week old baby. It was perfect to meet little Duncan on Owen's birthday, a vivid reminder of how far we have come. For Owen's birthday dinner, we harvested our entire pea crop and tasted the first of our homegrown broccoli. Owen must have spied his birthday treat cooling on the counter, however, because after a few slurps of noodles he refused to eat anymore (it couldn't be because he doesn't like broccoli, could it?) So we stripped him down and let him go hog wild with his blueberry buckle, but only a piece because it was so yummy that John and I couldn't bear to see the whole thing demolished. Owen clearly enjoyed it, raising both arms in victory and pumping them heartily in the air. We cleaned him up and opened his gifts and read some of his new wonderful books to him. The celebration must have really taken it out of the little guy, he woke up for a wee snack at 5:30 and is still asleep (it is 8:30! He has NEVER slept this late.) Meanwhile, John and I are enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee, reading magazines, and eating strawberries. This is obviously Owen's birthday gift to us. Needless to say, we are all feeling much better rested than we did one year ago on this day!

Last Day of Being Zero

Today is Owen's last day of being zero years old. This very time last year, I was searching the internet to see if extreme irritability was a sign of impending labor. On this day, John and I took our final labor class and the instructor warned us not to practice too hard for fear of sending us to the delivery room. And on this day, John and I felt compelled to go to the grocery store to stock up at 10 o'clock at night, just because. One year ago, this day was our very last day of being a family of two.

And here he is today, our sweet baby boy, wrestling his buddy Koen, and John and I have no need to search the internet to see if extreme happiness is a sign that we have survived our first year of being parents!

Owen Eats a Noodle (Or 50)

Owen Joe, How Does Your Garden Grow

Thought yall might like to see how the garden is coming along. We are contemplating putting a "U-Pickum" sign in the yard to encourage others to help themselves. Our dinner list for this week looks like this: Lettuce with Peas and Spinach, Spinach with Lettuce and Peas, Peas with Spinach and Lettuce.

Vacation /All I Ever Wanted/Vacation/Have to Get Away

We've just come back from a lovely week on Orcas Island, Owen's first family vacation. Owen was a champ on his first ferry ride, despite the fact that we woke him up in the wee hours of the morning (turnabout of sorts, perhaps) to make sure we made it on time. We rented a cozy house on Obstruction Pass and Owen enjoyed leisurely meals while taking in the sights of passing boats and birds and kayakers. I think John and I only welled up once when we, ourselves, saw the kayakers, knowing that it wouldn't be us this year. We both took turns getting some nice runs in on the trails in the state park and felt a wee bit nostalgic for those Before Owen days and impressed with how fit we used to be. We spent most afternoons at Cascade Lake, where the water was a chilly 65 but still warmer than the ocean waters lapping at the beach in front of the house. John and I were the oldest kids by far splashing around in the water, all other adults having sense enough to stay on the sunny beach reading a good book. Owen met many friends and admirers and was nearly kidnapped by a Washington State Ferry Employee, who spent the entire trip back playing peek-a-boo and tickling him. She didn't even mind when he laughed so hard he spit up carrot juice all over her. So, aside from having the Go-Go's song "Vacation" stuck in our heads the entire week, we had a great first family vacation on Orcas Island. I think the moment that truly made it a "family" vacation happened at the very end. We had just had a nice picnic by the water and enjoyed talking with a sweet family from Denver. Owen was yawning a bit, all according to our plan to sleep on the way home, and we had just strapped him into his car seat when the ferry whistle blew, signaling the cars to begin boarding. We settled in, sad to be leaving but happy to be going home. And then, without warning, Owen, our sweet little boy, threw up. Vomited. Projectile. Everywhere. I think it is safe to say that after three hours in the car with that aroma, no one will be enjoying strawberry yogurt in this family for a long time (and no, he didn't sleep either.)

Uncle Patrick Comes To Visit

Despite Owen's expression in this picture, we loved having Uncle Patrick come to visit. You might notice that Owen looked exactly the same in the picture with his grandpa and John. It has nothing to do with the Pyle family themselves, merely Owen's irrepressible urge to squirm and wiggle.

During Patrick's visit, we ate our way through many donuts on our early morning outings and felt reaffirmed to hear someone else say, "It's only 8:30 in the morning?!" after cramming as much into the a.m. as possible to guarantee a long nap for the wee one.

Patrick fulfilled an important duty as the official "Cheerio Popper" on our walks, syncing his steps with John and endangering his fingertips to pop a tiny snack in Owen's mouth while he was in the backpack, ensuring that we could hike just a little bit further than Owen would otherwise have liked. Patrick also tickled Owen's funny bone in a way that John and I have yet to do with a side-splitting rendition of the Chicken Dance with Owen's stuffed lion. It brought on belly laughs like we have never heard before. John and I have attempted to repeat it, but Owen only hangs his head and cries, it being such a poor substitute for the real thing. I think it is pretty safe to say that Owen loves his Uncle Patrick.