If you've been reading over the past few days you know that last week was an extremely trying one for me.
Though there were indeed moments when I felt my sanity was in doubt, I never considered not forging ahead with a 2nd birthday party for Graham yesterday.
When I was a kid my mom simply didn't believe in gifting me with a toy or an article of clothing for no reason. If I saw something I wanted, really wanted, it might possibly be bought and put away for one of the two most special occasions of the year; Christmas or my birthday.
Small wonder then that my birthday was so anticipated, so fraught with excitement. For me it was the culmination all of the year's longing and my parents always made sure it was special. I do not think I was a spoiled child by any means, especially by today's standards, but boy were my birthday parties something. I still remember them as the highlights of my childhood and I am committed to making those same memories for my Graham.
The party started late Saturday afternoon. Eighteen people gathered to celebrate, first in our pool which boasted water at 83 degrees just for the occasion.
...both of which caused him to react just as I knew (hoped) he would.
Ya, it was a pretty good end to a pretty bad week. Look at that picture. Graham is covered in surgarey goo. There's a kid climbing over my head to get a better look at the cake. I've just been whacked with a noisemaker. And my face: oh yeah, I'm gonna make a memory, even if it kills me.