It wasn't perfect. Not even close. I didn't even make a cake. Or vacuum the guest bathroom. The floors weren't mopped, and the yard had weeds stretching to reach the tree limbs.
The party favors I planned to make are still being prepared by the super mom who lives in my head. The bubble-blowing machine - also her idea - is still sitting on the shelf at Target.
But, Asher didn't know the difference. What he did seem to know was that people love him. That sometimes the whole room fills up, just for you. That the giant racing car you only played with at the gym can suddenly, for no apparent reason, be yours.
There's so much to say about my son turning one, but there are teeth to brush and books to read. In all likelihood, I will begin reading, and within five minutes, I will be asleep. Another plan, foiled. Another occasion to curse the things you didn't do, perhaps. Or to thank yourself for letting go.
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