Pink and Red Playground Party

On Saturday, February 17, the day of Eleanor’s first birthday, Amelia declared that she wanted to have a “Pink and Red Playground Party” to celebrate her 4^th birthday.  This pronouncement rang true for the next four months as she counted down the months, then weeks, then days leading up to June, with the excited perseverance that only a child anticipating her birthday possesses. 

At first, I waited to see if her requested party theme would morph into something different – maybe she’d go character related, Cars or the Incredibles or Toy Story or Doc McStuffins, or maybe she’d go with unicorns or rainbows, as the little girls’ clothing section of almost every store currently seems to proclaim as the decoration of choice, or maybe she’d suddenly change her favorite color of the past year from red to green or purple or yellow.  I should have known.  Once Amelia gets something in her head, it stays.  Be forewarned; never tell my daughter anything unless you are absolutely and unequivocally prepared to follow through.  She never forgets.

Once I was positive that the “Pink and Red Playground Party” request was staying put, I encouraged it.  It seemed straightforward, an easy party to pull off and my little family of (current) extroverts loves any excuse to have a party.  Amelia and I shopped for pink and red plates, deemed pink and red sunglasses the perfect party favor and brainstormed pink and red foods to serve, all while accommodating my request that it be a simple party.

We scheduled the party to fall on the Saturday before Amelia’s actual birthday at our church’s playground.  As the day approached, we began watching the weather.  Amelia told everyone who would listen that she was having a “Pink and Red Playground Party,” but if it rained, she would have a “Pink and Red House Party.”  Even though she had a plan, the idea of having that many three and four year olds, along with all of our other guests, in our house felt daunting to me.  So, I hoped and continued to wear out my weather app, utilizing the hourly forecast and the radar as the party got closer.

The day of the party arrived.  Amelia’s Nana and Granddaddy, as well as her Uncle Kyle and Aunt Lisa, chipped in on the day of the party to set up, get Eleanor to the party, and clean up.  Nana filled bags with popcorns so it would look pink. We decided on watermelon, strawberries and grapes to be our red food and ordered pink cupcakes.  We borrowed cornhole and a tailgating tent from Granddaddy.

Adam and I continued to obsessively check the weather.  That entire morning, the radar looked ominous, but as the hours passed, the written forecast was more optimistic.  We knew that Amelia would feel celebrated whatever we chose to do, but we ultimately decided it would be best to push through with the playground plan.  I found myself wondering if people would still attend; if the threatening clouds would frighten them away. 

When 3:00 rolled around, we were there.  We set up food, put out a few chairs, took Amelia’s picture with a “Happy Birthday, Amelia” banner and took advantage of the fact that we could put the pink cupcakes inside the church, both to save them from possible rain and to keep the icing from melting in the already formidable Durham heat.  Amelia ran from place to place, excitedly trying to help and asking when her friends were coming. 

Right on time, people started coming.  She had family, friends from school, friends from church, and even a couple of her parents’ coworkers and their families.  I was humbled by the turnout for my girl.  We made it for thirty solid minutes before the rain started.  We were grateful for the cover provided by the trees, but soon it was obvious that putting the cupcakes inside had been the right idea.

We took cover in the fellowship hall with our cupcakes. We took advantage of the time, taking group pictures of the kids in attendance.  Amelia beamed as her friends sang “happy birthday” and she talked for days about how she got the first cupcake and it had a candle in it.  Amelia licked every bit of icing off of her cupcake; I’m not entirely sure if she tried the actual cake. 

As we all dripped dry, several kind and well-intentioned partygoers carried in food and napkins, rescuing several things from the continued showers outside.   Meanwhile, Amelia and her friends played and ran around.  Before anyone could lose interest, the rain stopped.  Slowly, people trickled back outside, just in time for on and off showers to continue. 

Astoundingly, the rain deterred no one.  People hesitated, people mentioned it, but unanimously, they decided to stay, to celebrate, to laugh, to talk, to let their children play in the mud and the “creek.” 

I know that Amelia is only four years old and I, both consciously and unconsciously, am contributing to who she will grow up to be, in so many ways.  I hesitate to name or list things that I perceive her to be, since she may well change or feel that I projected it onto her.  However, now that I’ve acknowledged that risk, I’m going to face it to share with you what I learned at Amelia’s “Pink and Red Playground Party.”

I learned, or was reminded, that right now, at four years old, Amelia absolutely loves people.  She loves people in a kind and inclusive way that I hope to cultivate.  From the moment the first guest arrived, Amelia greeted each person with genuine enthusiasm.  She independently thanked guests for coming and needed no prompting to invite children to join in whatever she was playing, so much so that several other adults mentioned it to me.  I cannot think of a better or truer compliment for my Amelia.

I was once told that Amelia has a “light” and while that is true of everyone in their own way, right now, Amelia’s shines brightly.  One of Amelia’s party guests was a member of her Friday morning breakfast club.  Adam, Amelia and Eleanor go out to breakfast on their way to work and school at the same restaurant every Friday.  It just so happens that a group of senior adults do the same thing.  My family has been welcomed into that group so fully that one member took the initiative to come to Amelia’s party.  She had invited the group en masse the Friday before and while only one person could attend, they came bearing a card signed by everyone.  Amelia has started actual, real friendships with many different groups in the short time she’s been here in Durham, in spite of so many changes. 

I learned that Amelia wants to help.  She wanted to pick out things for the party, help with the invitations, make sure as many people as possible were included, set up for the party, make sure every single child got pink or red sunglasses to take home, clean up afterwards and she was very interested in donating books.  We told her friends to forego birthday gifts, but that if they wanted to bring something, they could bring a book to donate.  Amelia was unsure at first, but when it came down to donating the books, she was thrilled.  We discussed how not everyone has books and she was excited to share what she could.  As we left the donation center, she asked if there were other things we could share.  Yes, Amelia, there are so many other things we can share, so many things we can do to help. 

The party reminded me that Amelia wants to wear a particular outfit and make sure it matches, but will not hesitate to play in the mud or run or climb in it.  She will sit down anywhere, at any time, to look at a book, no matter what is going on around her.  Amelia will eat icing all. Day. Long.  She fiercely loves her sister and while they are entering a phase that involves more picking at each other, she wants Eleanor by her side.

Most of all, at this long anticipated, rain-soaked, perfect for Amelia, “Pink and Red Playground Party” I learned that my Amelia truly is growing up.  Four sounds (and looks and acts) so much older than three.  Kids learn so much while they’re four and by this time next year, I have no doubt that she will be more than ready to take on kindergarten and quite possibly, the world.  Amelia still wants to be hugged and cuddled, but I can feel her starting to assert even more of her independence.  She still wants to hold my hand and skip, but also wants to insist that she can walk by herself in a parking lot.  Amelia tells her own stories now, but will still listen for as long as I would read.  More often already, she chooses to follow a friend to play rather than stay with me.  I could not be prouder of the gracious, friendly, kind, brave, resilient little girl she has somehow already become. 

So, that’s why we celebrate.  That’s why we threw a party.  What’s not to celebrate?  Another year survived as parents, sure, but not just survived.  We’ve had an entire year to see her grow, to see her learn, to see her become.

As always, I am grateful to those of you who helped us to pull it off.  We couldn’t have done it without you.  I am grateful to each of you who celebrated with us.  I am grateful to you for being there, for braving the weather, for being a part of her life and most of all, for loving our Amelia.

Obsolete Children and Grown-Up Thoughts

“As a child I assumed that when I reached adulthood, I would have grown-up thoughts.”  

-David Sedaris

May and June are busy for our family.  It’s not only the end of a school year, although since I work for a school system, the school calendar continues to dictate the tides of our day-to-day life.  We have several family birthdays and special occasions during the month of May, in between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day; we have five birthdays to celebrate.  On May 17^th, I turned thirty-four.  Thirty-four, for those of you who may not have experienced it quite yet, is apparently the age at which you have to start counting up how old you are.  I found myself doing math or thinking about how old Amelia will be before I could confidently answer the question, “how old are you?” Thankfully, I work in a job where it’s not only acceptable, but also entertaining, to respond by asking, “how old do you think I am?” to which I am immediately either told something around the age of 17 or something around the age of 65, both of which, for the current moment, are too far off to have any affect on my self esteem.

This particular year was a very mom-ish birthday.  We had one daughter who was sick enough to need to stay home from daycare, it rained all day, we were packing to leave for Tennessee, and I had several meetings at work. It was just another day.  We did manage to eat cake after we put Eleanor to bed; I feel that teaching Amelia to eat cake just before bedtime has been a parenting win.  Thankfully, our bathroom leak and subsequent industrial dehumidifiers weren’t temporarily put in until the next week.  It wasn’t a bad birthday at all and I truly appreciated Adam’s effort (along with that of my parents and brother/sister-in-law) to make it special. I’m grateful for the last year in so many ways and thrilled to see what the next has in store. 

In fact, it was a good birthday; any day with cake and celebrations are good days. Bring on 34!

All of that aside, it is a strange feeling.  I continue to be undeniably adult with a stable job (in a career I’ve been in for ten years), two kids, a dog, a marriage to my best friend that’s nearing its seventh anniversary and a house payment.  I have officially entered my mid-thirties.  When I look at the decades, I consider 30-33 to be early-thirties, 34-36 to be mid-thirties and 37-39 to be late-thirties.  Argue it as you will, but that’s how I’m calling it. 

“Adults are just obsolete children…” 

– Dr. Seuss

Anyway, on the night of May 17^th, as I watched Adam light thirty-four birthday candles, listened to Amelia sing “Happy Birthday,” tried to make a concrete birthday wish without telling so as not to break the magic, and worried about whether the massive flames above my cake would set off the smoke alarm, I felt very adult.  

“I am convinced that most people do not grow up…we marry and dare to have children and call that growing up.  I think what we do is mostly grow old.  We carry accumulations of years in our bodies, and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are innocent and shy as magnolias.” 

–Maya Angelou

For the first time, life isn’t racing toward the next big event.  I’m not counting the days to a wedding or a birth or a move.  Adam and I have built a wonderful and strong life together, but until now, that life hasn’t been quite so rooted.  For the first time, we aren’t talking about where we’ll live next, what house we may look at, what town we could try or what job applications to complete.  It’s a strange feeling, and honestly, not necessarily good or bad.  I can’t say with certainty that we won’t move again or add to our family in the next few years, but I also can’t say that we will.  This is one of those realizations that is somehow simultaneously suffocating and liberating.

There is always something to work toward, to improve and with two busy, growing girls, there will be no shortage of firsts, of changes, of mistakes, of fears, of growth.  We definitely haven’t arrived, but this is how things turned out.  There's no time to waste; there's no excuse.  This - today - is life. 

A Practically Perfect Party

Almost a week ago, my Amelia turned three years old.  Three.  Three has felt like a big one.  She is no longer a baby, no longer even a toddler; she is a little girl, a preschooler.  I've surprised myself with how difficult it has been for me.  I'm celebrating her childhood, but also saying goodbye to toddlerhood.  Even now, with a preschooler, I can see the future looming.  I'm thrilled to see who she becomes and all of the things she will accomplish, see, do, change and experience.  At the same time though, she already needs us less and less.  I know, I know - that's as it should be, and I am proud that we are raising her to be independent and confident.

2017 has not been easy on Amelia and while she has mostly handled it with as much grace as a three year old can muster, that fact has been undeniable.  There were some big changes at school, including the recent culmination of a transition to the preschool classroom (which has been a life goal for Amelia for almost an entire year).  Eleanor's arrival has rocked her world in innumerable ways, most of which will be good in the future, but aren't easy now.  On top of all of that, we will be completely uprooting and changing her life in the next few weeks.  So, it was important to me to make this birthday extra-special.  I felt like she deserved something that was completely about her.

All of you know how much birthdays, and celebrations of any kind, mean to me.  I love the chance to make things special; I love surprises so much that I won't use online banking for a month leading up to Christmas and I have never once shaken a present.  As a parent, celebrating Amelia's birthdays have been one of my favorite things.  I'm sure the same will be true for Eleanor. I absolutely adore finding ways to celebrate, seeing how excited she is and making it fun.

When a kid has a birthday, especially kids as young as mine, it's an accomplishment for the parents too.  You're celebrating another year of parenthood.  As you watch your kid blow out their candles, it's a prime moment to allow yourself some ever-elusive pride in your parenting skills.  Maybe that's why we all fall into the trap of letting them have way too much sugar and blindly falling into the meltdown trap that's sure to follow even the most low-key of birthday parties.

This year, we celebrated a good bit.  We had celebrations with grandparents, a Mommy and Amelia day at Tweetsie, popsicles with her class at school and a birthday party.  I capitalized on one of her very favorite things for the party; Mary Poppins.  Amelia is captivated by Mary Poppins.  She would sit and watch the movie every single day if she could.  All of her toys take turns being Jane and Michael, "spit-spot" has become a part of our everyday vernacular and the mere mention of Mary Poppins brings a spirited rendition of "A Spoonful of Sugar."  Here are some pictures of the party decorations, etc.

We had a wonderful turnout to celebrate our Amelia.  I couldn't be more grateful.  Thank you to Amelia's grandparents; I couldn't have pulled off the party without your help.  Thank you to every single person who came to celebrate with Amelia; our friends and family came out in full force and we love you all even more for loving our girl.  Thank you for understanding that three years old squeal, that makeshift "shows" demand attention, that playgrounds can be tough to share, that sugar tastes even better when it's celebratory and that this party was a labor of love.  Amelia had an amazing birthday; she knew it was just for her, she felt loved and for that, most of all, I thank you.

So, just once more, a week later, I'll say it again; happy 3rd birthday to our Amelia!

33

In two days, I will thirty-three years old.  Another birthday is looming. Even though I’m not sure I can even claim young adult status at this point, I still adore birthdays.  To me, age is something to be proud of, not to be ashamed of.  I have never understood why age would be a secret.  I’m proud of my thirty-three years!

This year has been another big one, especially the second half of it.  I’m finishing up my ninth year working in a school system as a Speech-Language Pathologist.  I had my second daughter three months ago.  In fact, Eleanor will be three months old on my thirty-third birthday, which just happens to be three weeks before Amelia’s third birthday.  Three is apparently a big number for us right now.

I feel like this is the last year that I can claim to be in my early thirties.  Next year, thirty-four will be mid-thirties.  How did that happen?  I know it’s unbelievably cliché to say it, but time is going by so unbelievably fast.  Of course, I’m the same person that I was at twenty, but I’m also so different.  Thankfully, I’ve changed, I’ve grown.  But I’m also just as thankful that I’m still me.  I don’t feel that I’ve been horribly jaded or that I’ve been tainted in some way.  Don’t get my wrong, I’ve faced my share of hardships, sadness, loneliness and loss, but there’s also been so much laughter, fun, adventure and joy.

Somehow, I do feel like the same person as ten years ago.  I continue to feel familiar; it’s just my body that changes.  Now, I’m not surprised when I notice a gray hair, even those that are weirdly a different texture than the rest of my hair.  I most definitely can’t wear the clothes I wore pre-two kids.  What matters is constant though; the same movies make me laugh, the same books stir up the same emotions, the same places call to me.  My list of books to read and places to see has done nothing but grow, even though I have the memories to prove that a few things have been checked off.  I still want to act and dress and play like I'm in my early twenties, but all while I have to juggle the mortgage, student loans, kids, and career of today.  I can no longer deny that I'm fully an adult, but I'm confident enough to know that growing up, acting my age, which means so many things, does not equal being a grown up, but instead an adult. 

Birthdays force us to look back.  Yes, they force us to look forward, to celebrate today, but also to place value on the past.  Another year has been conquered.  No matter who you are or what your situation, that is no small feat.  So, tomorrow, I will soak up the last day of being thirty-two.  I will count the minutes until my thirty-third birthday on Wednesday and while for all intents and purposes it will just be another day, to me, it will mark a new beginning.  A new start.  A new chance to take advantage of a new year, to force adventure into this mom life, to read, to write, to travel, to talk, to play, to invest in people, to learn, to try, to see the world through three-year-old and three-month-old eyes (not just thirty-three-year-old eyes).

So, enjoy today.  Enjoy tomorrow.  And, when Wednesday, May 17^th comes around, have a very happy my-birthday.

I'm Feeling 32

On Tuesday, it was my birthday.  As I have repeatedly told you, I adore special occasions and I am lucky enough to be married to a man who helps to feed that adoration.  Adam undeniably spoils me on my birthday, my birthday eve and my birthday week.  I hope that I take advantage of the opportunities to spoil him too, but right now, I am still basking in the reverberations of birthday week 2k16 and I know, that I don’t ever do it as well as he does.  Today and every day, I am thankful for Adam. 

Anyway, this year I turned 32.  To sort of quote the immortal words of Taylor Swift (and by quote I mean change to fit my situation), I’m feeling 32.  At this moment, I mean I’m feeling it in all the ways possible.  I am feeling 32 in that my body has suddenly started to feel 32.  On the other hand, I’m feeling it in that so far, it’s a good age.  Since I’ve been 32, I’ve played babies, I’ve dried tears, I’ve laughed, I’ve celebrated a graduation, I’ve been on a road trip (albeit a short and familiar one), I’ve had cake, I’ve said thank you, I’ve taken pictures, I’ve sung songs, I’ve continued building some cloud castles and as always, I’ve taken stock of things as they stand on my birthday.

While both nostalgia, embarrassment and possibly even regret have their place and time, I don’t think birthdays are that time.  To me, birthdays are a celebration; a time to mark the successes of the year.  Remember the good times, the laughter, the love, the wins and to simultaneously acknowledge the triumph over the failures, the sadness.  Triumph includes just facing another day, even if it’s an ongoing struggle.

I’m currently planning Amelia’s second birthday party.  This one is going to be as low-key as I can handle and I’m intentionally making it less work than last year’s one-year-old bash.  Even so, it makes me think about birthdays in general.  I hope that I’m teaching Amelia that birthdays are an occasion to celebrate, with the people that are important to you, no matter how old you are.   We get caught up in begrudging ourselves for getting older, when really; we should be excited for another year.  I would never give up any of my previous years in exchange for being younger.  I am proud of my age and all that I’ve done in the 32 years I’ve been given.  Of course, there are things that I want to do better in the coming year, dreams I want to realize, hopes I want to encourage, interests I want to foster.  It isn’t that I’ve been anywhere near perfect.  It’s that I am thankful for my 32 years and I am thrilled to have been 32 for almost a week and for 51 more weeks. 

Birthdays are not about the cake, the presents, the attention; it’s about being given another year, the possibilities of the future, the relationships formed in that year and what you can share with the world – tangibly or otherwise.  And, right now, I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 32.