On the eve

This weekend was dedicated to E, whose third birthday is tomorrow and whose party was today. The party was wonderful and so much fun. She has some terrific friends, who have some terrific parents, and it's a real joy that her existence has made new friends for us, too. We decided to splurge on a party hosted out-of-the-house at one of those outfits that makes its money off of small children's birthdays and it turned out to be the perfect decision because it was Fun. And Not in the House. And therefore, Not Stressful. The only real challenge was E's cake request: all those animals and all those flowers and gardens and a kangaroo and a giraffe and a princess and a dragon. Of course.

I feel these cake-making adventures should be viewed in a generous light: that is, this is how much effort I'll put in for my daughters. Not: I'm particularly talented. Just particularly tenacious. Here is this year's effort:

I snuggled E before bed tonight and reminded her it's a school night. "Two minutes, love!" I said to her and she protested. But it's my birthday! I really, really want extra birthday snuggles! It's a good idea to get extra snuggles on my birthday! Curled up against this lawyer-in-training, already more than half my height, I thought about three years ago tomorrow when this pundit first said hello to the world. Just six pounds and change but already declarative about her opinions. Born on the 26th, the obstetrician pulled her out and commented on her lungs. That's the loudest child I've delivered all month, he said with wonder.

From six pounds to the person beside me: as I lay those extra moments snuggled in my birthday girl's bed, I marveled at her personality, her age, and the surprising forms of one's life's contentment.