On the day she was born…
A year after that…
My little Peanut turned 2 yesterday. I know several mothers that do not feel this way, but I am really enjoying watching my daughter get older. There is no part of me that wishes she would stay a baby. Not that I don’t get nostalgic sometimes when I see her do things that she used to need my help with, but I like to see my child strive for her independence. And accomplish things by herself. And see how proud that makes her. And feel how proud it makes me to know that I’ve brought her to this point. I want to know my daughter and laugh at her sense of humor. Find out her pet peeves. Hear what she thinks about everything. I want to understand her like I would a best friend. That can only happen as she gets older.
We had a little, low-key birthday party at the farm on Saturday. We grilled chicken at the farmer’s mom’s house and ate a myriad of side dishes followed by PW’s chocolate sheet cake. A couple of my sister-in-laws were there along with us and Mandy. We’ve been working so much on the house that I didn’t want to take the time or energy to plan a big party. In fact, we had decided not to do anything really but get her a few gifts. A few days before, I changed my mind.
Here’s the farmer multi-tasking:
He sent me a picture of himself the other day titled “Jason Statham.” I laughed.
And my ornery little nephew, Foster.
He likes to run circles around us.
And, of course, we have the birthday girl!
That precious little face kills me. I could stare at it all day.
Here she is staring longingly at her piece of cake that I’m holding off to the side.
She refused to blow out the candle because she has been thoroughly warned of the dangers of fire, so Kalyssa was happy to do it.
After lunch, we all went back outside to open gifts.
Grammie got her a little lawnchair that she immediately had to try out.
“Whew! Opening presents and posing for the camera is hard work! I gotta take a breather!”
Her dad and I got her a tricycle.
Although her interpretation of how it’s supposed to be used wasn’t exactly what we were thinking, we’re pretty sure there must be something that’s pure genius about it.
PaPa and Nanny got her a water table that the kids really enjoyed after all the gifts were opened.
Somehow, it all turned into a family water fight in which no one left completely unscathed. I think it all started with the farmer and Foster. My husband is usually the go-to person when kids are up to no good. Probably because he’s so ornery to them. They always bite off more than they can chew, but I can’t blame them. He is fun to pick on.
And, of course, there was rarely a moment Saturday that these two were separated.
It was a good day.