Celebrate

I birthed both of my daughters in the same hospital… and the day after each of them was born, it snowed.  After putting their pictures side-by-side and seeing how similar they look, I’m mildly suspicious that I’ve given birth to some rare form of twins that are carried years apart and have a brother between them.

Alice Michelle is one month old today.  We went to a baptism at the church, and I was so excited to put my all-time favorite dress on her.  It’s so tiny and cute and only fits my baby girls ONCE before it’s TOO tiny.  This dress is worth all the labor and delivery in the world.

Isn’t it sweet?!
I snapped a few pictures, and then I decided to compare my two daughters again. I sifted through my old picture files and found that on Lacy’s ONE MONTH birthday-of-sorts, I had put her in the exact same dress. Today is Alice’s ONE MONTH birthday-of-sorts, and so I am able, through complete coincidence because I’m not on the ball enough to plan these kind of things, to compare my daughters once again, side-by-side, at the exact same age in the exact same outfit.

They still look similar, but I’m starting to see more differences.
They’d still pass for Rare Twins though.

Lacy’s birthday yesterday was a smashing success, so far as she’s concerned (and that’s all that matters). Per tradition, we always plan a family outing of some kind to celebrate her birthday. She gets to choose the outing. When she was 4, we went to see “Tangled” in theaters. When she was 5, we went ice skating. This year, she wants to go bowling. The bowling was going to happen instead of a party because
1) I just had a baby.
2) It’s RSV season.
3) We just had a baby and Christmas and can’t afford to buy more presents, go bowling AND throw a party.

On Sunday, my husband stayed home with Alice so I could attend part of Sacrament Meeting. While there, I overheard my daughter inviting people to her birthday party.
“But I thought you wanted to go bowling,” I said.
“I do! And have a party!” She gushed.
I tried explaining the situation to her. Every work I spoke broke her heart just a little bit more. Tears formed, her bottom lip shook…
And so I said, “All right. You can have a small party, and we will go bowling later.”
She wasn’t happy about it because she wanted BOTH on the same day, but it just wasn’t going to happen. It took a lot (A LOT) of talking and explaining, but everything was finally settled.
I hate disappointing my kid when it comes to their birthday. I don’t mind having to disappoint them over small things on any given Tuesday -but birthdays… birthdays are a big deal.
She also let me know it was important to her to have cupcakes to take to school. I know she had been able to enjoy treats brought by other birthday kids, and she wanted to share when it was her turn.
So.
Cupcakes needed to be made (honestly, it was easier to make them than get everybody dressed and out to the door to BUY them).
Kids needed to be bathed.
Breakfast needed made.
Lunch needed made.
Baby needed fed, burped, changed, repeat, repeat, repeat…

And somewhere in all of THAT, I threw clothes on over my un-bathed body, threw my hair in an ugly top-knot (I can’t pull that look off), put on earrings, put on lipstick, put on sunglasses (to hide my lack of make-up)…
And we were off.

It. was. insane.
I came home from the school (please understand on top of everything simply getting everyone and everything IN and OUT of the car is pure mayhem), I crashed on the couch with my poor baby who, by this time, just really needed some attention.
But then again: so did my son.
And to top it all off: I needed my own attention.

I put a movie on and nursed. My son hovered and touched and hovered and touched.
“Here!” I said, making my voice chipper, “Take my phone, go lay on my bed and watch Netflix!”
An hour later, I found him thus:

His little sister fell asleep as well. It was 2 o’clock. I had three hours before the big party was starting!
But I couldn’t seem to get with it! I mean, I had THREE HOURS with NO AWAKE CHILDREN.
And getting up seemed impossible.
I folded some laundry.
I made the simple (and free-to-me) party favors.

My daughter came home at 4, and together we tried cleaning the house. My mom came over and saved the day! She held the baby while I threw things together, and even though there was no theme and no money spent on the party (except the small amount I forked over for a cake mix, sprinkles, and cupcake holders)… my daughter went to bed saying, “This was the BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!”

As I went to bed, I remarked to my husband that I didn’t realize six years ago when I gave birth and went through pain and put forth so much sacrifice… that I would have to repeat the process on a smaller scale every year on the same day thereafter.
To which he replied, “Yeah, and then you had two more! What WERE you thinking?”
And I laughed.
Which was exactly what I needed.

She had two friends (plus two girl-cousins!) over for her big bash. We ate pancakes:

We made “Harry Potter” wands (all with stuff I already had on hand):

We ate cupcakes and blew out candles:

We laughed A LOT:

We opened presents:

And then we watched “Brave”:

While all of this was going on, my husband and son went to Wal-Mart to get Lacy’s big present. She had asked us for a bike. After all of her guests left, she was told to close her eyes…

And this is -quite possibly -the best picture of the night… it just makes it all worth it:

She was in heaven.
“Look, Lace… there’s a bell!”

To really put the cherry on her birthday, her grandparents came over and gave her… a Leapster! Needless to say, my kids did not want to go to bed last night… not while there was a Leapster around!

The birthday was a success, even without a theme and banner and matching balloons.
And we all slept soundly.
Except when Trenton had a nightmare about “fings that were clawing me all over.”
“Here, sleep by us son…”
And then the nightly feedings.
And then Alice rang in her one month birthday-of-sorts by pooping up her back and through her sleeper at 5 am…
But other than all THAT… we slept soundly.

And naptime today will be gloriously welcomed.