A few weeks ago a few of Mary’s friends from her class came over for a pool party to celebrate her ninth birthday. Every time I think about whipping up a quick blog post about the party, the headline I write in my head is for her sixth birthday party. Six fits more neatly in my motherhood
Mary started the Christmas season feeling overly burdened by the season, what with being a “Mary” and all. As if sharing a name with the Virgin Mother of the Savior wasn’t enough, her name is also a homophone with the salutation of the season: MERRY. She makes it look easy, but believe me, it is not.
A few months before Mary’s birthday, she started planning her party. I generally don’t start making actual plans for her birthday until after Thomas’s birthday, but this year I made an exception. Mary is the youngest in her class, and she has been positively hungry to turn six for a long time. (She’s actually the third youngest.
In the summer, our neighborhood had Popsicle parties every Friday. I posted about it on Instagram and several people asked me about the logistics. It’s this simple: the person in charge of our neighborhood association emailed everyone at the beginning of the summer with a calendar. Anyone who wanted to host signed up for a
Last year at preschool, David’s class sang a song that he called the Octopus Song, even though it’s actually called the Butterfly Song. He specifically loved the line, “If I were an octopus, I’d thank you Lord for my good looks.” And because he loved the song so much, and because he related so much to