Birthday Blues
Here it comes again. August. So much happens in one trip around the sun, especially with little ones living in your house. It’s almost as if time is under a magnifying glass.
“Twenty-one days until my birthday,” Tate proudly announces. The countdown reminds me not only of what I’ve left to do to put together her homemade party, but of the fact that, whether I like it or not, she is getting older. At what feels like warp speed.
This year she wants limbo, musical mats, pin-the-tail-on-the-dog, bobbing for apples and a balloon race. It’ll be a lot but we’ll do it. I just have to try to not rush the kids from one game to the next, like I did last year. I’ve got the piñata ordered and we’ll make her cake the day before. Gettin’ there …
A few days before her big day, we lie in bed talking about what pictures she wants me to bring to her birthday circle to share at school. She’s all giddiness and anticipation. While she goes on and on with her ideas, I look at her and try to see her as the world does. I try to believe, for a second, that she’s actually going to turn seven.
The memories of this last year stickily wash over me, slowly and all at once, forming a gooey collage around my heart. Her struggle standing up for herself to her bossy best friend. Her sadness when she took a colored pencil from school and didn’t know how to give it back. Her realization that her daddy doesn’t appreciate celebrations the way she and I do. How she bravely worked through so many hard feelings, and accomplished so much. It’s all in me, as it’s in her.
Her very first swim meet, her obsession with jokes, how high she got in the maple tree, sliding down the sand dunes, writing her first report. It’s endless. All the firsts that have come and gone. The next ones waiting their turn to come. My eyes wet with wonder, my heart viscous in love…
“Mama, what’s wrong?”
“Ohhhhh, you know me, it’s just that birthday sadness again, baby. Remember, I’m happy too. All at the same time.”
A tear sneaks down my right cheek onto the pillow I’m resting on and I give her an embarrassed smirk.
“Oh yeah, t-h-a-t.”
“You just keep growing up and getting older! And it’s all going so fast…”
“I know, I know, Mama. But, you’re not supposed to be sad…”
“I can’t help it, baby girl. Can you just please stop growing? Just stop it. I’m thinking, let’s maybe go ahead and just stay at seven. Whatcha think?” I kid.
Lying all snuggled up, her limbs long and strong wrapped up in mine, I’m awed by time. In mere moments, Tate’s gone from my belly to here. In mere days, she’ll begin the next revolution, reminding me of life’s circles, how it all comes and goes. Even the most beautiful.
