Spring garden in the morning

3rd Birthday

My youngest daughter's third birthday has come and gone and that, up above, is the last of the tissue paper, folded and awaiting destruction in some unknown, future craft calamity.

This birthday was a particularly good one.  In addition to a family party hosted by my in-laws, my husband and I invited a few friends and neighbours and their children to a kids' party at a local farm.

During the planning stages, I could think of only one possible glitch.  My daughter has three neighbourhood friends with whom she plays nearly daily when the weather's good.  I wanted to invite them all, but I knew that the family of one of her friends does not celebrate birthdays for religious reasons.  It's not something that we have spoken about often and I was hesitant to bring up the subject at all.

But I did, of course.  I approached the little boy's mom and asked if there was any way he'd be able to attend the party.  I assured her that she need not bring a gift and that they could come just for the farm parts of the day, if they wished, and skip the birthday parts. 

She said she'd think about it and let me know.  I wonder now, and I really should ask at some point, how much she struggled with the decision.  In the end, they came.  The little guy climbed the hay mountain, fed the animals and ate pizza with the rest of the kids, then he slipped away with his mom during the song, cake and opening of gifts.  It was seamless and easy and fun was had by all.

Yesterday, after dinner, my daughter's friend and his mom stopped by with a small thank you gift.  The attached note said, "Thank you for including us in your day." 

Possibly, I'm making more out of this than it deserves, but the whole experience has left me feeling pretty darn happy that we were able to find some common ground in a way that respected disparate beliefs.  Yeah, it was a good birthday.

What do irons and marriage have in common?

Our iron self-destructed over the weekend (see hole in wire in above pic) and the husband and I had a brief discussion regarding my requirements for its replacement.

"It has to get really hot.  Lots of steam, too."

And there it was.  After twenty-odd years together, the punchline was a no-brainer.  Yes, we agreed, at least something around here should be hot and steamy.

The crocus stands alone

Here she is, our lone crocus.  She magically appeared on the patch of grass in front of our house last week and we (my daughters and I) have fallen in love.  I'd like to take this opportunity to thank whichever small, furry creature transplanted her bulb from one of the nice lawns onto our lawn and ask that you please refrain from eating her.

Cornbread and the lost art of focus

I bumped into a good friend at the grocery store recently and while we talked, I realized that the conversation wasn't sinking in.  My two year old was there too, simultaneously carrying on her own conversation and interjecting repeatedly, "Excuse me, mom.  Please be quiet."  So I was answering her queries and shushing her at times and talking to my friend and thinking about whether I'd gotten everything on my list and all the while wondering when, if ever, the ability to focus will return.  Because, right now, it's AWOL.

These days, there's a constant battle raging in my head between three increasingly aggressive factions:  (1) what I am doing, (2) what I'd like to be doing, and (3) what I think I ought to be doing.  Occasionally, they arrange a ceasefire and warily co-exist, but mostly they're just making a huge mess in there, leaving me no time or energy to decipher the universal truths of life on earth or, alternatively, the path to instant blogging success.

So, in lieu of focus or a solution or whatever, my daughter and I returned home from the grocery store and made cornbread.

Mmm cornbread.

Sparkly shoes