Birthday Girl x 7

Today is my sweet, petite, tiny little peanut, Daphne's, seventh birthday.  I really truly cannot get over how fast she has grown.  She's still a little peanut--a full head shorter than most kids her age--but she's so grown up.  Kissing boys (yeseterday, in the tunnel slide, at Arctic Circle.  The boy she kissed told his mom who told me.  His response to it?  "It was yucky.  I hated it.")

Seven years and one day ago, I was still three and a half weeks from my due date.  I woke up one Monday morning.  School was over (I was a teacher) and it was the last day to get grades put into the computer.  Actually, they were due the Friday before, but I hadn't finished them.  So I got up early, planning on going to the school before the secretary got in and noticed mine weren't there.  As I walked around getting ready, I felt a trickle.  I wondered if I was having some bladder control issues.  A few minutes later, another trickle.  I suggested to Big Daddy, who was getting ready to leave for work, that it might be my water breaking.  He poo-poo'ed that idea and went off to work.  But over the next half an hour, I had a feeling it wasn't a bladder issue because I had soaked through three pads.  Still a slow trickle, not the big gush you hear about, but I became convinced it must be my water.  So I called Big Daddy and told him it was time!  He still didn't believe me.  But he came home to get me anyway. 

I loaded my final exams and grading folders into the car.  Big Daddy brought along a print job he needed to drop off in Murray, and we headed to the hospital, via his client's house and my school.  It took me about half an hour to do get my grades put in.  I sat on a towel, but by the time I was done, both my pants and the towel were soaked.  Other teachers kept passing by my classroom saying "What are you doing here??  Go to the hospital!"  But I wasn't having any contractions, so I figured I might as well tie up all those loose ends before the baby came. 

Luckily the hospital was about 800 feet away from the school, so we were there within a couple of minutes.  After 26 hours of labor, first unmedicated and using the hypnobirthing method, then on pitocin, and finally cranked on pitocin and with an epidural, I finally gave birth to little Daphne.  She was only 5 lbs 7 ounces.  So tiny!  But she had such a perfect, delicate little face.  All the nurses oo'ed and ah'ed over her.  

Now my little peanut is seven.  SEVEN!  She's missing teeth, getting new teeth, learning to read and write, loves to draw endlessly, loves stuffed animals and animal toys, hates socks and jeans and anything that "feels weird," sleeps in late, stays up late, says funny things, is unafraid of anyone or anything especially dirt, has a "boyfriend" (Silas), adores all animals and even all bugs (she's into catching bees lately).  She's such an odd duck, but so endearing.  I'm so glad to have her in my family.


And here's a little about her big day.

We started it off with her favorite breakfast.  Cinnamon rolls.  And bacon.  Lots and lots of bacon.

Daphne chose an "Ugly Dolls" theme for her birthday.  So Big Daddy and I made Ugly Dolls cupcakes for her birthday cake.  Pretty fun!

The festivities were held at Nickel City, an arcade where everything is in nickels.  The kids love going there.  And not only do the kids get pizza and pop, they get nickels AND tickets included, so everyone left with tons of little toys.

Silas and Daphne

I love this picture of the Ugly Dolls cupcakes smooshed into the pan together. They look panicked!

Anyway, it was a really fun day.  And I HIGHLY recommend both cupcakes instead of a cake (WAY easier) and having the party somewhere else (no pre-party OR post-party clean up!) 

Happy Birthday, Daffodil!

The Super Stupidest Bird Ever

Today we went to the pool. And when we came home, we left the garage door open for a few minutes. After I got all the swim suits and towels hung out to dry, I came back to close the garage door. But there was a very scared-looking young Robin fluttering around the cieling of my garage. Mind you, the garage door--all 9 feet wide and 8 feet tall of it--was still wide open.

The bird settled on the top of the garage door nearest the ceiling. I pushed the button to make it start closing, hoping to dislodge Robin. She fluttered up to the ceiling again then over to the post above my car. And shat upon my car. DAGNABBIT.

So I opened the other garage door, the double door, hoping to give her an 8 foot high, 25 foot wide opening through which to fly. But the stupid thing fluttered around the ceiling some more, like a moth at a lightbulb, and flew into the open recycling bin. I was about to try to fish her out with a broom when Big Daddy said, Wait! He went over and softly closed the lid. Then he wheeled the whole bin out to the driveway, the smart man. He gently opened the lid again, and there was Robin, sitting on some old boxes and newspapers, panting and looking very distressed. I got the broom and tried to encourage Robin to fly away, but she just fluttered around some more and burrowed deeper down into the bin. Big Daddy went in and closed the nearest garage door so she wouldn't fly back in, while I reached down into the bin and carefully closed my hands around Robin's trembling body. I held my hands up towards the sun in the picturesque way you always see in the movies and released Robin to flight with a gentle upward thrust.....and she flew right back into the garage through the other garage door.

Stupid, stupid bird.

Daphne said, "Maybe we can keep it, Mom!" To which I said, "If we're going to adopt a bird, it isn't going to be the world's stupidest bird."

 Where she is now, no one knows. Somewhere amongst the camping chairs and fishing tackle high on a garage shelf. And there she will probably stay until she grows the braincells to fly out the GIANT OPEN GARAGE DOOR OPENING.

 STUPID BIRD!!