Every once in a while, a picture shows me a peek at what she might look like as a teen. I’m not sure I’m ready to imagine her as a teen, that will come soon enough.
Whether they’re heels or Chucks, she just loves to wear Mama’s shoes.
That might stay the same when she’s a teen, too. Provided my shoes are cool enough.
Motherhood can pack a walloping dose of guilt at times, especially when your 4-year-old’s birthday lands at a particularly inconvenient moment with regards to time, money, health, energy, or even a working phone. This sense of guilt can then be further intensified when she patiently and politely reminds you 2 months later that you promised her a birthday party with cake and presents and friends.
Ouch.
So I had to come up with something fast, and just Mommy and Daddy around the dinner table with a cupcake wasn’t going to cut it. There had to be a party. And there had to be kids.
So now what?
Then my cousin, Amanda, came up with the most brilliant idea ever: her daughter’s school was having a spring carnival – we could meet up there, and then have cake and presents after.
So Gem and I baked brownies for her cake, and then we bought a bunch of frosting and decorations, and we put the girls to work decorating her birthday cake. This was a job they took very seriously.
Doesn’t that just look delicious?
Yes, of course the grownups all politely made yummy faces as we each dutifully ate a piece. 🙂
And then there was the carnival.
There was a climbing wall: That’s my baby, waaaaaaaaay up there.
And pony rides!
A hug for the pony.
Face painting, temporary tattoos, and her bestest friend.
She got her big day, and she didn’t need to know this entire carnival was not just for her birthday. Let’s keep that between us, ok? 😉
Have you ever watched little kids make friends? It blows me away with it’s simplicity and straightforwardness. They just run up and start playing together. No introductions necessary. No concern over who lives in what kind of house, or wears designer labels, or whose mom drives what kind of car. Shame and embarrassment and comparison? All that comes later. Much too soon, sadly.
In the meantime, I’m learning from this kind of authenticity.
This is my daughter and her cousin, caught up in “I’m so happy to be here with you, I just wanna hold your hand.”
I spent my daughter’s nap time pondering what I was going to do about my weekly photo post, when her chattering and giggles caught my attention.
There’s nothing I love so much as the sound of her giggles. In fact, I grabbed my gratitude journal to make a note of how well she entertains herself during her quiet play time, and how much I love her giggles when this little face popped out of her room and into my view:
She had covered her face with blue permanent marker. She said she was putting on makeup.
Oh, my, yes, she was proud of herself.
I crowd-sourced the issue with friends on FaceBook and Twitter, and received a wide range of suggestions. Some were much more helpful than others, for instance, we didn’t try the steel wool.
I’ve rubbed her down with olive oil a couple times, and scrubbed her face several times. The most effective treatment was to apply a layer of coconut oil, let it sit for a few minutes, and then gently rub it in a bit before washing it off.
But there’s still a hint of blue. Her hair and eyebrows are the worst; the color does not want to let go of her hair. Oh, yes, my little punk got it through her blonde curls, as well.
Since yesterday, so many of my friends have shared stories from when their kids did this as well.
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