The huge milestone of the first day of kindergarten was only eight days ago.
Of course the usual birthday rites were preformed:
*cupcake delivery to her classroom
*her decree-ing of the birthday meal (chicken drumsticks, mashed potatoes WITH gravy, and peas)
* cake with candles ( my eldest made the cupcakes and cake, and frosted them)
*presents(this year's big deal gift was at long last her own bonefide webkinz)
Like I said, turning five is a big deal.
With my daughter doing the baking, my other daughter helping with the decorations:
Streamers hung from fan blades are cheap entertainment. They could not understand however, why we did not want pink crepe paper brushing the top of our heads every second while we ate, and turned the fan off during the birthday meal (I know, adults are so lame).
But as I was saying, with all the help I garnished from my eldest daughters, for a pretty simple family-only celebration, it now makes sense with such clarity, why I was such an insane, tearing, human being, come every birthday party. I used to be much more elaborate when it came to the whole birthday party thing. And back then I was still under the delusion that others actually cared about being involved in the celebration of the birth of another person's child.
I had no older helpers.
I had people over.
I had to have it perfect.
I was miserable.
So, fast-tract to yesterday.
It was still stressful, loud, hyper children, messy floors, cluttered countertops and tables, abounded.
But it was fun.
The birthday girl loved it.
The older girls loved being a part of helping.
I did not have to have that fake plastic smile on till my lips hurt, because we had people over.
It was about family, food, and fun: The trinity of domestic happiness.
The glow that keeps us sane, lets us know its okay, its supposed to be hard, enjoy what we can amongst the noise and work: God's gift to weary parents solderiering on.
The evening came to an close,the girls up much later than usual.
The birthday girl and two- year- old were very happily trying out the new paints, while I washed up some dishes…again, big girls taking showers upstairs.
Lydia exclaimed to me that:
"I love my paints, and I am going to keep them safe in my new purse"!
she then paused, and added with a sage nod:
"well until I lose them all".
Five-years-old and already a realist.
Here's to being as realistic as a 5- year-old, willing to take life as it truely is, in strive.