My baby, she's three

Children running rampant, in that awesome, chaotic, wonderful kind of way.  Adults sharing, 'catching up', and passing around the babies.  A lovely chorus of 40 voices bestowing wishes of a happy day unto the most beautiful part of my life: Rosanna.  

In short, her birthday party was perfect.  

playing under the OTP tables with cousins and friends

ready to open presents at home

who needs cake when there's frosting?

fun time at Incredible John's

mission: birthday exhaustion, complete!

Shmirthday

I get asked every year what I want to do for my birthday.  Truth is, I can no more pull that answer out of my brain than spin straw into gold.  Is it the near complete giving up of myself to show up fully for my kid that as shoved the possibility of 'doing for me' out the window?  For 364 days I check out of "Mel" and into "Mom" and that's a hard habit to break.  I don't even want to talk about the unjustifiable guilt, sheesh.  If I do come up with something it's extravagant.  As in, "keep dreaming sister".  In which case I don't bother to bring it up and wave around the fact that what I really want we can't afford.
Let's just say I want a day to myself.  Well, what now?  Do I sit on my keester and watch re-runs of Top Chef?  'Cause really, a day to myself sounds like heaven in that all the dishes would be done, laundry put away, floors scrubbed, base boards wiped, windows shined, E's work shirts ironed....happy birthday to me!
I'd rather my birthday just went by without any obligations, without any guilt that E spent money on something which is really our money so it's not like some free and clear gift.
So, yeah.

and it's time to do the birthday dance!

When I think of my infant I think, "where'd I leave her?".

She was so danged small.  Her face was a different shape and her hair was so, so dark.

Today, her second birthday, she is tall, lanky and not so squishy.  She hair is streaked with browns and blondes that any woman'd love for their hairdresser to master.  She is proficient in her emotions, telling me moment to moment what she is feeling and how it came to be that way.  Her comedic side is strong.  She uses different voices to convey different messages and raises her eyebrows to up her chances of understanding.

She's a freaking miracle.  I am biting my tongue to not lay out every over-done saying about kids and growing and time passing and, and, and....it's all so tragically true.  I want her to be 2 forever.  It's the most fun.  I also wanted her to be 2 weeks old forever, and 6 months old forever.  I guess that's a promising sign.  All of these times are outrageous.  Her toddler-ness challenges me and rewards me over and over again in the span of a single day.

I want more kids.  Like 4 more.  In a few minutes I'll be convinced that Ro should be an only child.  Then I'll want 2 more kids.  Then I'll kick myself for ever having one because I love her so much it physically drains me and I wait around in terror that something could happen to her.  I can't win and yet I've won so completely.

Happy 2nd birthday baby Ro (geez, I guess I have to drop the "baby" now, huh?).