I know that everyone loves their people. Each person has a small network of family and friends that they just can’t imagine doing life without. Sometimes I wish I could better explain how I feel about them. There are moments when I see them across the room and I start writing a blog post in my head at that very moment, hoping I can convey some small part of the feelings I have for them, but knowing I can never quite explain it in words. These people bring me SUCH joy. Bright and early this morning, my sweet sister emailed me two photographs from yesterday, knowing that I took exactly three with my phone and didn’t even know where my camera was for most of the day. Immediately, my eyes welled up with tears. I was so thrilled that she sent it my way, knowing that she is crazy busy with paying customers and still took the time to give me this sneak peek. I was overwhelmed at the feelings I have for this little nugget. She has the sweetest expressions and her whole face lights up when she’s happy, and somehow Kamin was able to capture the ever elusive ‘real smile’.
When I first started blogging, I wrote about birthdays and how I was unashamed to celebrate big, because how else should we celebrate the greatest gift we’ve ever been given? Here we are almost seven years later and I’m still having this debate with other mothers (and a few non-mothers who love to share their opinions). I overheard a comment yesterday about how “over the top” Sophie’s birthday was and it cut me deep. I would never confront them about it and I don’t really even care that we have differing opinions, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. I know that I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but just in case you are scrolling through pictures thinking I throw parties to “one up” you or because I want internet accolades, let me assure you that you’re wrong.
My parents are the ultimate party planners. In fact, they threw a huge party in the barn on Saturday only to tear it all down and build a winter wonderland for round two the very next day. I grew up in a family where homemade Valentines and coordinating place settings were the norm. In a pre-Pinterest world, my mom’s talents rivaled Martha Stewart’s and she was never one to turn down a project. Anything we could dream up, my parents could build or bake or decorate. It is no surprise that the childhood I am cultivating for my girls looks remarkably like my own.
When we stay up late building pipe-cleaner crowns that spell out our name and look perfect for pictures, it isn’t so that you’ll compliment us. When we painstakingly cut out paper squares and staple them on cello bags filled with Valentine’s Day candy it isn’t so you’ll ridicule us on Facebook. When we climb ladders and spray paint dowel sticks and untangle fishing line, it has nothing to do with what you’ll think is appropriate or a wise use of our money. It is only because our little girl requested sparkly snowflakes that hang from the sky on her birthday.
This wasn’t the best party I’ve ever thrown. I didn’t plan it months in advance and bake cupcakes from scratch. I have spent the last ten days or so furiously making lists and running errands and cranking out design orders left and right to be able to afford balloons and cupcakes. Parties aren’t cheap and I don’t mean to suggest I threw this one with a double-digit budget. I get that not everyone wants to pour money into a two hour event, but I like to say we value experiences over possessions in our family and I will write a check for a smile every day of the week before I buy more stuff that my children don’t need and will abandon a few days later.
Parties aren’t easy for mothers. We’re making sure the food stretches as far as it can, we’re lamenting that last minute project that we couldn’t quite finish, we’re feeling terrible that we can’t visit with every guest and hoping that you know how much we appreciate you being there. When it’s all over, we ask someone else how it went and if they had fun and if they thought the tables were too close together or if the barn got too hot. We hope that no one will notice we had to blow out candles twice or that the ice cream sandwiches didn’t make it out of the freezer until most of the guests were already gone. We lay in the dark and smile when our husband squeezes our hand and says it was the best day and that everything was perfect. And we can never describe how we feel the moment we ask our crazy big 5 year old if she had fun and the only thing she says is “thank you, mama.”
So if store bought cupcakes (we got ours from Publix) and pre-printed invitations is your thing, enjoy the heck out of them. If your son prefers a sleep over and big present, wear your earplugs to bed and know that he had the best birthday ever. If hot gluing snowflakes and dipping ice cream sandwiches into sprinkles is how you want to spend a Saturday afternoon, then by all means, call me and I’ll bring snacks and reinforcements. The only requirement for birthdays is that you celebrate them. Celebrate that little person who brings you such joy that you don’t know how you were happy before they came along. Celebrate that after years of waiting on God to bless you with babies, you finally got the very thing you were praying for.
