My sweet little baby is now a full-blown kid who had her third birthday. And, true to form, her uber-organized-never-procrastinating mommy is just updating the blog now, two and a half weeks after the big day.
This year, Maya had her first real birthday party. No boring adult bash for her, she wanted kids, balloons, streamers, the whole shebang. Cool, my honoured queening will surely come in handy here. "What theme do you want for your birthday party?" I ask. "Ummm.....Tharkle," Miss Maya replies. In layman terms, Maya wants a birthday party with the theme of her beloved cat, Sparkle.
Yes, her name is Sparkle. No amount of suggestions from Ma and Pa could convince this child to name the new-found feline friend something a little less embarassing to yell out the back door. Fine, Sparkle it is. Let me pause here to tell you that although Sparkle is Maya's new best friend, Maya is viewed by Sparkle as the Blue Eyed Terror and Destroyer of All That Is Holy. And by Holy, I mean comfortable naps.
Anyways, I tried once again to convince Maya otherwise; maybe she'd like a rock n roll party (she loves to yell "let's rock and roll!" as she plays her keyboard) or something else a little less girly and fuzzy. No, she wants a cat-themed party with purple balloons and streamers. So we head to the dollar store to stock up on purple and lavender party supplies and copious amounts of creepily real looking cat stickers.
So the big day arrives. Maya comes down the stairs and sees her presents and gasps. "Was Santa here?!" Not a bad guess, considering it was snowing like crazy outside. So crazy, in fact, that we had to cancel the cat party. Maya was crushed, to say the least. And then the power went out, and she was terrified. Thank goodness Santa brought her a wind-up flashlight for her birthday.
So this past Sunday we tried for Maya's party again. We decked the living room in streamers and balloons, put cat stickers on the party hats, cut the strawberries and the cheese. The hats and blowers were creepy, because no matter where you walked, those cats were always watching. Thankfully, it had warmed up enough for the snow to melt and the kids to come over. They put on cat party hats, blew cat party blowers, threw cat toys into a cat bed, ate chocolate cat decorated like a cat, and had a generally purrr-fect time. (You knew that was coming, didn't you?) Maya apparently channelled Leslie Gore and decided "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to!" She was a wee bit overwhelmed by so many kids over and touching her toys (the horror!), but eventually came around when it was time for cake and presents.
We've been really fortunate with our dear little Maya. She hasn't had any major illnesses or accidents, she's generally a well-behaved little girl, she finally sleeps and eats well. We've had a wonderful 3 years as a family. But I find myself feeling an omnious cloud looming, telling me the 3 years were pure luck, and had nothing to do with Maya's sweet temperament or our stellar parenting.
Or maybe it's just the creepy cat stickers I keep finding around the house.