Birthdays and Real Life

Today was Megan's second birthday. I am not having her party until tomorrow, but two years ago today I learned my baby would share her birthday with my Granny--which had to be a wonderful sign. I would love to write about all of the magical memories we made today when it was just the two of us. Those special bonding moments that can only happen between a mother and her daughter. I am picturing things like swinging in the park in the sunshine and kicking a ball around in a lush, green back yard, but those things did not happen today.

To begin with, it poured down rain. It is barely March, so our grass is more of a burned yellow color right now. And the mud still lingers. The most memorable moments of today are not the kind of memories that solidify relationships. I was playing the keyboard, to try the height of the new seat I bought for it, when Megan came flying around the corner pointing her tiny finger at me, demanding, "Stop it, Mommy. Dat's eNOUGH, Mommy! Dat's eNOUGH!" Soon after that, she spilled my much needed and highly anticipated Diet Dr. Pepper all over the kitchen counter. That was before she tried eating a banana, peel and all, from the middle creating a mushy mess of her hands and face, and after she had ripped a packet of hot cocoa mix open, covering herself, her baby doll, and my favorite chair in the living room. Much of this she managed while clomping around in her sister's cowboy boots.

In the evening, she let out a scream that had me planning the fastest route to the emergency room, and when I got to her (she was intact, by the way), I found her cornering her older brother saying, "Dawin, NO NO HAVE IT THE BALL!!" For those of you who do not speak Megan, that means, "Jaron, no you cannot have the ball, you need to give it to me as soon as possible." So while I tried to think loving thoughts about the anniversary of her birth, mostly I was annoyed and hoping this was not a preview into the terrible two experience for our family. After showers and baths and fresh PJs for everyone, I was rocking her at bedtime. I was thinking about how I wished her birthday had gone a little bit differently when she let go of her blankie and reached up and pushed my wet hair away from my face and said, "Mommy pity." Translation: "Mommy is pretty." That was all I needed to decide her birthday was okay in the big scheme of things.