Is it just me or was Forrest just born, like, three days ago? A week? Maybe 2? It can't be 10 months, right? I can't possibly be realistically looking at decorations and invitations and how to make a 3-layer cake with a removable top layer to be his smash cake, right? I'm just having some kind of fever dream, I'm sure. This is one of those weird postpartum dreams where I wake up and I've been sweating out all the fluid I built up over 9 months. Right? Right.

Except no, Forrest really is 10 months old now. I really am doing all of those things. I really am pinning Fall-themed birthday cakes. I really am thinking about ordering invitations, baking cakes, making little acorn-lookalike candies.

When it comes to parenting, I feel like I'm always writing in astonishment. Can you believe that Forrest ate a SANDWICH? By HIMSELF? It stuns me that he is old enough to chew, to pick up food and eat it, to stand up on his own. It really does feel as though he was born yesterday.

But it also really feels like, well, he was born a year ago. The months are both incredibly short and the longest of my life.

Babies grow up. Part of me is sad about it (what happened to my smooshy little newborn?) but another part of me, a bigger part of me, is so exhilarated to see what he's like, what he enjoys, how he talks, that it's ok. So I'm gleefully planning his first birthday party, even though I'd always said I wouldn't throw a big shindig.

If you'd like to follow my party planning for Forrest, you can follow my 1st Birthday board on Pinterest.