My Vote is for Jeans, T-shirts and Potluck . . .

I am a pretty casual guy. In college, I put a fair amount of time into thinking about what would be the cheapest / most fashionable way to dress - then I went out and bought 7 pairs of blue jeans, 12 white t-shirts, a couple of sweatshirts and a couple pairs of shorts. I was golden!

On the night I proposed to my wife at a park in La Jolla, we sat down on a bench and I said, "Let me just get this out there: You wear a wedding dress, I wear a tux - the bridesmaids wear whatever nice dress they own, the groomsmen wear whatever suit they may own. The reception is potluck."

"Yeah, that won't happen" was my wife's reply.

The days of blue jeans and white t-shirts were fading in the rear view mirror. . .

Now (17 years later) we are faced with THE ULTIMATE EXTRAVABONANZA SPECTACULAR of our first child's first birthday. And I am having panic attacks daily.

This is not my deal - not how I work. I am all about a small gathering of close friends, close family, a few beers and a BBQ - and oh, yeah - cake and a sing to the wee one.

But that just doesn't work. For one, we have so many people to thank and who want to celebrate this spectacular and miraculous day whether in person or in spirit. This time last year we were told Annie's Birthday would be her only day. And yet, here we are: many surgeries and procedures and blah blah blah later . . . .

If ANYONE should be throwing an ENORMOUS birthday ULTIMATE EXTRAVABONANZA SPECTACULAR it should be us - even if I have to wear something other than blue jeans and a white T-shirt . . .

Only . . . .

The house . . . .

She's not-so-much ready . . . .

I won't bore you with the details except to say, "Roll with it" is a good motto to practice . . . if the absence of stairs and the 2-foot drop from the rest of the house to the family room troubles you, or you find yourself brooding over why there is bare drywall, an unfinished deck or a house exposed to the elements for lack of stucco work - there will be a cooler of barley sodas on the deck - see if it helps . . . if that doesn't work - grab a juice box out of the other cooler on the deck.

There is more . . . but I won't bore you and besides . . . all those thoughts will fly out the window when our 80 lb dog terrorizes your wee one by quietly lumbering into the room minding his own business and happens to glance in your little one's general direction.

So I am having panic attacks daily and we are doing everything we can to spruce up / finish out and generally make the place less lawsuit-inducing to our guests.

In that spirit, auntie Heather (Mercy) sent us this poem:

No matter what we get done, you're gonna turn one;
And it's gonna be fun, for all our friends in the sun:
Water gun, hotdog bun…(I don't mean to poke fun…)

No matter what we get done, you're gonna turn one;
Though Mommy's head's feeling spun,
We'll do the chores one-by-one.

No matter what we get done, you're gonna turn one;
It weighs a metric ton; the work that needs to be done,
But in the long run, Daddy will pull a fast one!

No matter what we get done, you're gonna turn one;
This poem's silly and overdone,
But your party will be a home run.

No matter what we get done, you're gonna turn one!
As you bless and stun, we'll celebrate you a ton.
From your crazy Auntie Mercy…to my little loved one.

So see you at the extrabonanza - if you haven't received your evite it is because we haven't had time to punch in every one's e-mail address yet . . . or we did punch in your address but it was the e-mail address you had 10 e-mail addresses ago . . . we're working on it . . . if you don't get an evite - just show up - no biggie . . . juice boxes and barley sodas are on the deck . . . watch your step . . .