Happy Birthday Dutch!

I lied about birthday parties at home. I’m all for a small family gathering kind of thing. I tried to find the balance of special, but not over the top or overwhelming. I knew Dutch simply wanted balloons, party hats, and people singing happy birthday to her. She’s been talking about it for months, and still doesn’t know how to hold up her three fingers.

People always say this, but I can’t believe she is three. Three! Seriously, what’s happened in the last three years? Didn’t I just bring her home from the hospital?? She was just one, right?? MB always looks at me like I’m a lunatic when I get all motherly. Apparently it feels like years to him. It’s just kind of freaking me out that I’m moving out of the young kids phase. I inadvertently call her babe or baby sometimes, and she will firmly reply (often with a little stamp), “I am not a baby anymore!” She is a bona fide little girl, with a mean sweet tooth reminiscent of her mama.

And so we gathered to make pizzas, eat cake, sing songs, rip paper, blame farts on each other, and celebrate being old enough to use the potty and boss everyone around. Bring on the pictures.

My sole source of inspiration for the big day: the rainbow. Not kittens, or hearts, or unicorns. Just straight up rainbows, cause i’m focused like that.

The girls wowed us with some magic tricks, which later became an installation art wall.

Party wares. You’ll notice I’ve included on trend items, like paper straws, natch.

Unsolicited photog tip: Set everything up in the day light (our party was scheduled for dinner time) and take your pics while everything is clean, bright, and you’re not playing hostess with the mostess. It’s also a good time to snap some shots of the birthday girl before things get crazy.

And I’ll let you sneak a peak at THE CAKE…I’ve got a whole post for it coming soon.

Dutch is just pure bottled rainbow.

Dutch, I have asked you repeatedly to stay small. It is without my permission that we continue these aging celebrations. I’m sure it’s become obvious that I love hanging out with you, hearing you make up stories and songs. I love your big eyes and big curly hair. I love that you keep calling dad a “big nerd” and remind me that it’s a joke (a joke you don’t even get, but you know how funny it is to everybody else). I’m always delighted by your unsolicited thank yous for doing your laundry, or handing you a toy, or getting you a snack. You’re definitely trying to be a stinker sometimes, with your loud assertions and absolute refusals, but I see through your smoke and mirrors. I will continue to kiss on you and squeeze you even though you’re tiring of my excessive affection. We love you more than crazy rainbows, big bags of candy, fuzzy blankies, and silly songs.

I’ve never been able to see a resemblance of myself in my kids (I rarely ever think they look like MB either), and the same goes for personality. I’ve never seen them as an extensions of myself. I’m not sure why, it’s not some great credit I’m trying to claim. I truly marvel at these three different little people that invite me into their worlds and hearts. They just come ready to be themselves. I try to remind myself to just guide and try not to squash. On their birthdays I realize how far we’ve all come and we’re still alive! and still like each other (mostly)! and we are in it despite the crazy! and the crazy is full of love, love, love…..