Duck Pond

During my time of avoidance we celebrated my mother's birthday. I was dreading it.

I love my mother more than I ever knew and I hate being reminded how much I miss her. It's this pain that is completely indescribable. It hurts Iike no other pain. It engulfs me in such sadness I'm left sobbing and shaking at everything that should have been and everything that isn't.

Unlike June 9th, April 20th isn't supposed to be a sorrow filled day. By its very definition, a birth day is always a celebration. That's where I struggle. I have an internal battle with my emotions, trying to be happy for the life my mom lived, celebrating her, keeping her day alive for my daughter, all the while I'm drowning in sorrow.

Somehow I managed. I'm quite sure my mom was proud of me. I had my moments, the night before her birthday and the night of, alone in my house drowning in my tears, unable to stop. But, I managed to keep the depressing feelings at bay during her day. My mother was the eternal family motivator/organizer. She kept us together and connected. I try really hard to keep that alive, though I'm often met with resistance from family members, I still try for Alice. This year I made arrangements for my sisters and our families to go to brunch together and visit a duck pond afterwards. In all honesty, it was nice. Alice picked out a balloon to take to the restaurant for her and her cousin, because no birthday celebration is complete without a balloon. It was my way of reminding Alice and my niece why we were gathering together, why this day was so special. The girls had a good time playing together, at brunch and at the duck pond.

Something happened at the duck pond. At the time I didn't think anything of it, only afterwards when I was reviewing the pictures I took did it hit me. When we ran out of bread to feed the ducks, the girls took to playing and climbing on the trees, and of course we started taking pictures. Sitting on the couch, looking at the pictures, it reminded me of being a child. My mom was never without her camera, and I remember this one photo shoot she did of us climbing trees. Now, my mom was far more overbearing, forcing us into bizarre poses and positions, often resulting in grumpy frowns. But that day, taking pictures of Alice and my niece in the tree, I got it. I got why my mom did what she did at that photo shoot. It's just what moms do. We love our babies so much we want to freeze every moment, never to be forgotten. If there was one thing I never doubted growing up, it was my mother's love for me. And I make it my mission every singe day of my life to show Alice how much I love her. I don't want a single day to go by where she doubts it.

Only Alice

Hand in hand, I lifted the latch and we entered the tot lot. All around were tricycles, plastic ride on cars, balls, plastic playhouses, and a small playground. I saw the tooth fairy, a bat, Snow White, Anakin Skywalker, a super hero, a baseball player, and numerous other children dressed in their favorite costume. They were all having fun, riding and running, laughing and shrieking. Orange, purple, and black balloons tied to the gazebo greeted us as we walked in. It looked and sounded like a fun birthday party.

Alice, dressed as the most adorable version of one of our favorite characters in Alice in Wonderland, clung to me for dear life. To her the party looked intimidating. Everyone already in play mode, after a long crying fit at home, we were walking in thirty minutes late. After several attempts to ease my daughter out of her shell, I stopped trying. I socialized with the other parents, periodically trying to pry itty bitty fingers from my own. Looking around, all the other children were behaving like "normal" children at a birthday party. Adults were standing around, children were playing together. Not Alice. She bounced from my leg to Hatta's leg, holding tight. Her friends from school called to her.

"Alice! Alice! Come play!"

I encouraged her to play. I reminded her we arrived late and the party would be over before she knew it. I walked with her to the playhouse where her friends were climbing and chatting together. She ignored them and hid further behind my leg. I talked to her friends, hoping she would see me having fun with them and join in. That plan was not successful. Finally as a last ditch effort, I took Alice aside.

"Alice. You know how I tell you that sometimes it's okay to be stubborn and sometimes it's not? How sometimes it gets in the way of you having fun? This is one of those times. You're being stubborn, refusing to play, just because. You know that if you just allow yourself to play you will have fun. These are your friends. You play with them everyday at school. So stop being stubborn and let's play or we are going to have to leave the party early."

I walked with her, holding her hand so she had no choice, to the playground. I made us walk up the steps to the top. And there I encouraged her to go down the slide, promising I would go down right behind her. And finally, just like that, she did it and all was right in the world again. She ran to the steps, climbed to the top, and happily slid down the slide again. She was playing. Upon her insistence, I took my turn down the slide and waited for her at the bottom.

I'm hoping this is what the rest of the party goers saw. My adorable child finally allowing herself to have a good time. You wanna know what I saw?! Naked four year old vagina.

OH! EM! EFFING! GEE! My daughter was dressed head to toe in sparkly tulle, sliding down the slide on her naked ass. I swear, only my child would be devasted because her black bow headband wasn't completely centered on her head but could care less that she was out on the town with her naked parts out there for the world to see. In her crying fit of rage at home, we had neglected underwear. You may remember how my daughter has a fondness for going commando. She wasn't wearing underwear when I helped her dress into her costume and I, just wanting to get out of the house, completely forgot.

Luckily I'm a prepared mom and I had a skort in my bag. I grabbed her hand and walked a bit out of the way of the party, all the while scolding Alice for going out in a dress without underwear. She's four. She has to be aware of these things. I can't possibly be in charge of everything! With the skort slipped discreetly under her costume, Alice was free to run and play.

I have to say, I am a teeny bit worried about Alice's naked vagina showing up in some unsuspecting mother's photo stream. There was this one mom that was blasting her iPhone like she was the paparazzi. Please say my daughter is not on the Lindsay Lohan track.

Wit and Wisdom - Stop Sign Edition

I present to you the wit and wisdom of my 4 year old darling. That's right...she's now 4. Insane. Birthday post coming when I can stop saying "My baby! Where did my baby go?!" for long enough to write it.

Alice and I were in the car (of course) driving home from a super duper fun visit to our local FiveBelow. Party favors were purchased.

Her: Mama?

Me: Yes.

Her: Wasn't that a stop sign?

Me: Yes.

Her: Then why didn't you stop?

I chose to ignore her smart ass, back seat driving self. I suppose, only being 4 and not 14 like she thinks she is, she's never heard of a California stop.

There Will Be Cake

A very important birthday is coming up in a few weeks. No, not mine...Alice's. She's turning 4.

What the what!? When did that happen? How is it even possible that she's almost 4 all ready?

Anyway. Any mother knows a birthday and a party go hand in hand. It's expected. People start asking about the impending party weeks, even months in advance.

Suffice it to say, I'm actively planning a birthday party. Except, I'm not. Let me elaborate, I'm having a party for Alice, but I'm not actively doing anything about it. It's refreshing!

The previous years, I have found the party planning to be exhausting, daunting really. I'd create lists and lists within lists, spreadsheets even. I was worried about having enough food, too much food, and foods to feed my picky eater. I'd lose sleep thinking about the entertainment planned for the party. Will the little kids be entertained and the big kids engaged at the same time? What about the adults? At a 2 year old's party, you tend to have a fair amount of adults. Then, there are the party favors. What do I give that kids will enjoy and isn't going to be broken or thrown in the trash the next day? You'd think I was planning Kendal Jenner's sweet 16 party, and frankly, that may have been less stressful.

Something happened this year. Something clicked. Maybe it's my attempt to be more carefree and easy going. Maybe I'm figuring this mom thing out, finally. I don't know. I do know I haven't made one list, not even a mental note in preparation for this party. I didn't send out invitations. I told a few people the date and time, and I finally got around to send out an evite yesterday. I'm not allowing this birthday party to stress me out. Kids will attend. They will have fun. There will be cake. And isn't that all that really matters anyway?

Happy Birthday, Dear Mom

Today is my mom's birthday. This is the first year since 2006, when my mother died, that I have honestly attempted to celebrate this day.

The first three years after her death, I pretended April 20th didn't exist. It seemed easier that way. If I ignored it, I could also ignore the pain I felt. After all, how can the day that is all about her exist if she's not even here?

The next few years, I spent April 20th in a state of depression and silent anger. Angry that I couldn't celebrate my mom's birthday like other 30 year olds and send a card or maybe flowers, go out to dinner together, at least a call to sing her happy birthday. I was angry at my husband for not recognizing the state I was in, for not seeing how this day could be a bad day in my eyes. It was a bad day. Right there with June 9th, the day she died.

This year, I suppose I'm making progress. I can say today is my mom's birthday, and even though my eyes well with tears there may be a hint of a smile on my lips as I say it. Because today should not be a sad day. It should not. Today should be the day to celebrate all the amazingly wonderful things that made my mom brilliantly unique.

I have never known anyone quite as optimistic as my mom. She was happy. One day, her and I were outside in the garden at Hospice. My mother was a florist and an avid gardener. We were leisurely walking around the path and my mom was telling me the name of this flower and that one. It was a beautiful spring day. The gardener was there working and my mom wanted to talk to her. She was asking her about multiple aspects of the job, how many days a week was she there, did they have volunteers helping, etc. Without even hesitating, my mother tells the lady, "when I'm well again, I would like to volunteer here gardening." The eternal optimist. We knew she was not going to be well again. But her? She wouldn't allow herself to believe it. I don't even know if deep down inside, in that place where your brain holds you accountable for reality, she accepted it. That's who she was. Never ending sunshine.

So...to my mother, who I miss more than imaginable, I sing this to you in my perk, perk, perkiest voice.

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday, dear Mom!

Happy birthday to you!