Dining Room Design: Pierce's birthday

That's how old my baby boy turned today. Six?! How did we get here? Last year, I did a little birthday <a href="http://myinteriorlife.blogspot.com/2010/04/mamas-boy.html">tribute to Pierce</a> where you can see more adorable photos.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifl4-sXBNa1Vo3MdK1bFTdG1My-Iot99dxNMVTABjZVH-d_bf_eilmaFHT2HfA3vEQ3CqV1EgjgVEIyn01dv-HN2bWTXSst84aUOx86lfbq_FvU2DpV1MMZUahBsGTLw48HOoNOO1eK2Nd/s1600/IMG_9153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifl4-sXBNa1Vo3MdK1bFTdG1My-Iot99dxNMVTABjZVH-d_bf_eilmaFHT2HfA3vEQ3CqV1EgjgVEIyn01dv-HN2bWTXSst84aUOx86lfbq_FvU2DpV1MMZUahBsGTLw48HOoNOO1eK2Nd/s400/IMG_9153.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">As the days go much too quickly, sometimes I just want to freeze time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzsBQ8-2p7SXU52i-d8zmGFpIzq113FrLlHpA8s36U2Ltov1ec-8lU6S1-cUrlY4l-PU1Wr-ku94wvmBhCdm15qj_knuL7QeQoC2Te9t03yWwd-m9r6EDSAUFx_VorDxrYOAMYwC_SBLw/s1600/IMG_4556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzsBQ8-2p7SXU52i-d8zmGFpIzq113FrLlHpA8s36U2Ltov1ec-8lU6S1-cUrlY4l-PU1Wr-ku94wvmBhCdm15qj_knuL7QeQoC2Te9t03yWwd-m9r6EDSAUFx_VorDxrYOAMYwC_SBLw/s400/IMG_4556.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">No matter how old he gets, he'll always be my baby. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULwujkOxAZRKZc8O4oWrgqs9wAk4wT2ngAvtKUq7j_i-keKKO7Bblgj3ZMO4BbnQb8fOhsGXPUBxxVY7sY_kxqNhmsrCE6KQhAAsvFZFtQvvZ5JBaxx6Gms3kCoWx6WXWBaFRZW_zv8fe/s1600/_MG_3311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULwujkOxAZRKZc8O4oWrgqs9wAk4wT2ngAvtKUq7j_i-keKKO7Bblgj3ZMO4BbnQb8fOhsGXPUBxxVY7sY_kxqNhmsrCE6KQhAAsvFZFtQvvZ5JBaxx6Gms3kCoWx6WXWBaFRZW_zv8fe/s400/_MG_3311.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGG5KCYZ2YFeQdj4RvgJrPqPgYMSNQ0Qm3VX9iTo8TitDvAE1ImFeNCSQk7Tak6lUDo7Y-pi0AKFeT7qSFKh4f49BeIqebX9vRhDG3QIyaplKHOjjprU2bnEBEI-Poq8uZIOlcNfNBjiz/s1600/_MG_3308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Happy Birthday, my sweet Pierce! I love you so much!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJPUvZJW727N34O790XV7awmIMKHKNoYOsjA0WCWppYt6FG8vY5wDNbF-l1aE9v-mFt_TZhV8T9GDdcswAdEAF_x60w65D0F5odX_F1JUGC0GKkJ3MesLiEroAvD9r890oHTBz9xiP3wuZ/s1600/IMG_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJPUvZJW727N34O790XV7awmIMKHKNoYOsjA0WCWppYt6FG8vY5wDNbF-l1aE9v-mFt_TZhV8T9GDdcswAdEAF_x60w65D0F5odX_F1JUGC0GKkJ3MesLiEroAvD9r890oHTBz9xiP3wuZ/s400/IMG_0520.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkK-hZLMtg2GollGKPbtL2Wju0t5P2bcNHbTmNYAPYgTWfvKD_1m3JQrz0Oz1gh8pzsRyDzxaI7SBxbnhYHUCphTNFBmYoxidKnWg045TOqEcjP74zEmgS-wPArH2Y_uF05gLaSh6TFfzR/s1600/IMG_0523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>

Six

That's how old my baby boy turned today. Six?! How did we get here? Last year, I did a little birthday tribute to Pierce where you can ...

<span style="font-size: large;">I remember when the term "Mama's boy" was meant as a derogatory remark. Now, it just makes me lovingly think of my little guy. Although, he's not so little anymore. Today my baby Pierce turns . . . gulp . . . FIVE.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilGWggNsF5NL_xMcRsin0TpajEwbGCSgg2IcqxzMsnVPNd6z2I5iXUZaFyPsF_q0Ul38U05veuZC57JnpxsX6ngZ5NAQuKLf2sD3SmAwbqgYDIUPrasMkpoggxX3MOlU1zY3m94DLhjis/s1600/IMG_8156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilGWggNsF5NL_xMcRsin0TpajEwbGCSgg2IcqxzMsnVPNd6z2I5iXUZaFyPsF_q0Ul38U05veuZC57JnpxsX6ngZ5NAQuKLf2sD3SmAwbqgYDIUPrasMkpoggxX3MOlU1zY3m94DLhjis/s320/IMG_8156.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Big ole blue eyes. And that stuff coming out of his mouth, well that's just "dripping sugar" as my MIL lovingly calls it (this is the South after all).</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like all parents, I sit and think, "How did he get this old?" Pierce is and always will be my baby . . . a little surgical procedure has seen to that.  So, yes, I'm more than a little sad that he's as grown up as he is. I have to get my baby fixes with my friend's babies . . . but I must admit, it's nice to hand them back and not have to worry with the sleepless nights, colic and other realities of having a newborn.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5P1Rz4EO4Pxs2Q0LpwBMKG3But2Qufxko1Kw9ZGnLuaj7AAneZwLfmoKAUqQykvs5AnHFjihEc6znOhneYeD4BP4AvlZZp_fbGKDo6gczWQQCNPOL9IXfu4UK-io7ya_GbAN6s-pNfg/s1600/IMG_6359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5P1Rz4EO4Pxs2Q0LpwBMKG3But2Qufxko1Kw9ZGnLuaj7AAneZwLfmoKAUqQykvs5AnHFjihEc6znOhneYeD4BP4AvlZZp_fbGKDo6gczWQQCNPOL9IXfu4UK-io7ya_GbAN6s-pNfg/s400/IMG_6359.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>C-section baby face. Not as red and scrunchy as his sister.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I never expected to have a boy. I grew up in girl world - having only an older sister and going to an all-girls high school made me a little wary of boys and their secret club. Then four years after marrying my husband, our first child - a girl - came along. Of course, I was supposed to have girls. So, when pregnancy number two rolled around, imagine my surprise when I saw a little something extra on the ultrasound. Complete and utter shock and a little fear.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEion7rBeoJCzi2gsirzWKAwuutFNDXf-IFsrPHlwCoCT80wjDnUrHcZ6u_uvnLYZyDrpRonAO7w0itvSz7UT_JZmZreYGWSLgzziCQcu32gi0zZai9PlcW1hGeOmga6mghjLS5u3BZogr4/s1600/IMG_8434edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEion7rBeoJCzi2gsirzWKAwuutFNDXf-IFsrPHlwCoCT80wjDnUrHcZ6u_uvnLYZyDrpRonAO7w0itvSz7UT_JZmZreYGWSLgzziCQcu32gi0zZai9PlcW1hGeOmga6mghjLS5u3BZogr4/s400/IMG_8434edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>That's Matt and mini-Matt.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">People tried to warn me about the activity level of boys. I naively replied that I had a very active <a href="http://myinteriorlife.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-girl.html">girl</a>, so it shouldn't be too bad. I was very wrong. Constant motion. Never stops. Still haven't caught up on my sleep from his toddler years. Although, he was a good napper until, oh, about age 3 so I got some brief reprieves.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi215eGJqL9Gy17AwM6vmToxqkEBbvfyNlBQgTBA6ptBB3qAyNkXhtuAJ9ydodhpfHNvB7YD6K7Ctrrl-OUrS-v2rGdnrzwEZjkrso-xEraARUCgrrY_D4SA4Xpi1c7nHxM6TdDI80B_4g/s1600/IMG_1012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi215eGJqL9Gy17AwM6vmToxqkEBbvfyNlBQgTBA6ptBB3qAyNkXhtuAJ9ydodhpfHNvB7YD6K7Ctrrl-OUrS-v2rGdnrzwEZjkrso-xEraARUCgrrY_D4SA4Xpi1c7nHxM6TdDI80B_4g/s400/IMG_1012.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOf2twy0es-Newn6ofC2rTEhb1Jhg0DvVsWoqld47n_c5YjQMOgZfpJYX91BdvupQ4YbJ8KC2aXK9UBLcU_VrDc9iOV-ZNZvPtB5vRVYls0sLGncSILFvhfEG-YqDp2GeGCBFSuS1Cpw/s1600/IMG_0085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOf2twy0es-Newn6ofC2rTEhb1Jhg0DvVsWoqld47n_c5YjQMOgZfpJYX91BdvupQ4YbJ8KC2aXK9UBLcU_VrDc9iOV-ZNZvPtB5vRVYls0sLGncSILFvhfEG-YqDp2GeGCBFSuS1Cpw/s400/IMG_0085.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And into everything . . .</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WtVFk9E1qFCaBoXGHs9Ye2GIO7a2-diNWCvAoebbB_ngUVcXtnjlNMoqR-cooNImZjvKnFneYDoxaWkGhYVqXOgqCQJIVDr7PS52jsbjtErnB010xX_suv1FcTw4swb7AG95lifQXAY/s1600/IMG_0064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WtVFk9E1qFCaBoXGHs9Ye2GIO7a2-diNWCvAoebbB_ngUVcXtnjlNMoqR-cooNImZjvKnFneYDoxaWkGhYVqXOgqCQJIVDr7PS52jsbjtErnB010xX_suv1FcTw4swb7AG95lifQXAY/s400/IMG_0064.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This is a famous family photo. No, I did not dress him up as Ludwig Von Beethoven. He and his sister decided to put an entire economy size jar of Vaseline in each other's hair. That stuff does NOT come out. One solution . . . corn starch. It worked, sort of, after several washes. Priceless.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">People also tried to tell me, "Oh, boys love their mothers." This made me nervous. What if mine didn't? Well, he proved the cliche correct. He is the most loving, affectionate child, and yes, he prefers his mommy to most everyone (except maybe one of his grandmothers and on certain days his idol and big sister Meg). Kind of a wonderful ego boost.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrZ03i0ILtb7UQOcrliBu9nsETmHDnvV44NA2M8_bkzkiRlUzI5D3tFwK9pmZAUnhF1NbB3dOMG7iPl3r4MzWbrLir0lUaDs8dAwE-cwFV40Ar87XOoC_uv3UyZLzZpJGH3CIXeU-4Y8/s1600/IMG_2193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrZ03i0ILtb7UQOcrliBu9nsETmHDnvV44NA2M8_bkzkiRlUzI5D3tFwK9pmZAUnhF1NbB3dOMG7iPl3r4MzWbrLir0lUaDs8dAwE-cwFV40Ar87XOoC_uv3UyZLzZpJGH3CIXeU-4Y8/s400/IMG_2193.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQy3yEHeAmlDjU-pB1Rosbrdod-N6QzYakgCv2kCxcElX8La4Lh1uJTqawzLJ_G_ZsmvUCFquYQRA2ynAJ1sS72xOCBZH9x8GaFmCn67Fz6Nz4V1J8WaGQKbTNIgY3QUts5mByIWN9nXY/s1600/IMG_4082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQy3yEHeAmlDjU-pB1Rosbrdod-N6QzYakgCv2kCxcElX8La4Lh1uJTqawzLJ_G_ZsmvUCFquYQRA2ynAJ1sS72xOCBZH9x8GaFmCn67Fz6Nz4V1J8WaGQKbTNIgY3QUts5mByIWN9nXY/s400/IMG_4082.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and did I mention his curls? He had straight hair until he was about one when it started to get curly, then curlier and curlier. It's a force of nature. It's changed from blond to dark blond to light brown, but it's still very curly. If I go out with him in public people invariably comment on his hair. It's a great icebreaker. Pierce just wouldn't be Pierce without his mane.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhihhhAwoDiqXfQCYRE2lvlDhljxaLkg-NA2nt06wvoFK4znWVjVqIE5b0sPkDg11a9SjQIvCO-JfubyjpxPevysm3fE_Abi2yHG7f4yxMTCrYzrIPuHG-8ZK53UidNBW57l5kP3v-3S0I/s1600/IMG_9717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhihhhAwoDiqXfQCYRE2lvlDhljxaLkg-NA2nt06wvoFK4znWVjVqIE5b0sPkDg11a9SjQIvCO-JfubyjpxPevysm3fE_Abi2yHG7f4yxMTCrYzrIPuHG-8ZK53UidNBW57l5kP3v-3S0I/s400/IMG_9717.JPG" width="267" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Couldn't you just eat him up?</span></i><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhgHKTZHhkm_58NlQwymL0-XHY3_hbiBjrgpOJOK7YlXn1UIRxKedrAJBzteVnf2WF3r_B2hV4xAa7uchXELyXvud7QB_Zl9eOZkZUwXBgRaFkXFMLXuLTRzCF4cnTUYvdhr25c0ZD9Y/s1600/Fall+2008+50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhgHKTZHhkm_58NlQwymL0-XHY3_hbiBjrgpOJOK7YlXn1UIRxKedrAJBzteVnf2WF3r_B2hV4xAa7uchXELyXvud7QB_Zl9eOZkZUwXBgRaFkXFMLXuLTRzCF4cnTUYvdhr25c0ZD9Y/s400/Fall+2008+50.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">He brings so much joy to our lives, and oh, I love him so! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxNdMSslx6QovnZggdiiggufDnoaZ-0_FViEcCib8UyS1Vx5GSttxKNPhl9cVM22S2p-PNsjyFoZlfNZFPuh5TH1EbPTPg_pZ4wmGCjKeaXIfN-RV224SWqXyoGeEZkMNQdYiIqUK3yY/s1600/IMG_9143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxNdMSslx6QovnZggdiiggufDnoaZ-0_FViEcCib8UyS1Vx5GSttxKNPhl9cVM22S2p-PNsjyFoZlfNZFPuh5TH1EbPTPg_pZ4wmGCjKeaXIfN-RV224SWqXyoGeEZkMNQdYiIqUK3yY/s400/IMG_9143.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Happy Birthday, my sweet Pierce . . . may you always be a Mama's boy.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdKcwE9xTBG5BS4P2jgY8XK0pIp229h-TdRWrDOxSNQYnwGsZNdjIq-ib8FoI0t7fp_Oz93xMllJQcOaJBqCEg0NO7x7youBj-k9r3MswnWxFGhyphenhyphenh81cBsJqjOnO4pEM5mF96ZWT_qzA/s1600/IMG_0286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdKcwE9xTBG5BS4P2jgY8XK0pIp229h-TdRWrDOxSNQYnwGsZNdjIq-ib8FoI0t7fp_Oz93xMllJQcOaJBqCEg0NO7x7youBj-k9r3MswnWxFGhyphenhyphenh81cBsJqjOnO4pEM5mF96ZWT_qzA/s400/IMG_0286.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>

Mama's Boy

I remember when the term "Mama's boy" was meant as a derogatory remark. Now, it just makes me lovingly think of my little guy....

Dining Room Design

Seven

Six

Mama's Boy

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