Saturday, The Angel turned Seven.
I wonder how old she is in Angel years?
Since I don't know what a biological child experience is like,
all I have to go on is the here and now with The Angel and The Dinosaur.
There are days that I stare at her face and I wonder if she
even knows the depth of how much I admire her.
For her strength,
her outlook on everything,
and her ability to grieve for what she's lost
and still enjoy the present.
I am honored to share a house,
with such a fighter.
I despise kid's birthday parties.
the expectation of outdoing the other moms on the block.
The unnecessary buying of gifts that you know will be returned
or never played with more than once.
Please hear me:
I LOVE BIRTHDAYS.
The ice cream.
The celebration of one's life.
An entire day about being selfish.
I want to teach my kids how to celebrate,
without the gluttony of entitlement and stuff.
We talked to The Angel a lot about what she wanted.
She only had three requests.
Dinner, with her entire family.
A new bike.
And everyone singing happy birthday
Just for her.
We gathered everyone together.
The Hero and I bought her a new bike.
I covered our house in balloons
and pink and yellow streamers.
She got a new "sparkly" tank top
and new shorts.
We all sang Happy Birthday.
Just for good measure.
We ordered her favorite cupcakes.
And made her favorite dinner.
And the grandparents overdid it with gifts.
The Hero built a bonfire.
We made smores in the backyard,
sat around the fire
and relished in the glow of her face.
As she "snuggied" in my lap
and I stroked her hair,
She smiled and told me
"Mommy, I didn't have a birthday in Africa."
"I know sweet heart."
"But mommy, it's ok. Because today is my favorite day ever."
"No. I guess not. Every day is my favorite day ever."
Thank you for being a daily reminder
and opening my eyes to the fact
that each day
should be my favorite day ever.
And as long as you are a part of it,
it will be.