I had big plans for Tessa’s 3rd birthday earlier this month. I did that crazy mom thing. You all know what I’m talking about. When you get this idea in your head that a certain day or memory MUST be perfect and if it’s not your children will never remember a happy childhood? The pressure and motivation to avoid motherly guilt for eternity turns you into a crazy memory making animal ready to eat her own young if they don’t pose for that picture, smile and have a wonderful day? A day that will forever be branded into their memories next to where they remember you as mom of the year. Someone tell me it’s not just me. Anyone? A show of hands in solidarity – please….
Because my eldest daughter has inherited her photographic memory from her father, in the days leading up to her 3rd birthday I became obsessed with the notion that she may be able to remember her 3rd birthday all the days of her life. I decided allowing her to decorate her own cake, compete with making all the color and flavor choices would be the perfect gift for a girl who is 3 going on 30. What better present than to encourage her greatest gift – being the boss!
I hyped up the activity for the entire week leading up to the big birthday. She settled on yellow cake in cupcake form, chocolate frosting and that there MUST be purple glitter covering every cupcake. Mom of the year was within my grasp and I began patting myself on the back before the cupcakes were even mixed.
Unfortunately, my back had other plans. Little gal number 2 did some climbing onto the bathroom counter and my pregnant self decided it was wise to climb up after her to retrieve her thus saving her from any harm. It was the natural response – being mother of the year and all. Baby girl and I came tumbling down, throwing out my back and landing on my swelled tummy.
I was in a bad way and unable to move. I crawled to our brand new couch and there I stayed for the duration of the day. Once the pain subsided a bit I began to cry hysterically that the cupcakes hadn’t been made and I had ruined Tessa’s 3rd birthday. My ever supportive husband offered to make the cupcakes himself but I would have none of it. I had promised the birthday girl. Instead of trying to rationalize with a clearly distraught pregnant woman, my husband gathered every material necessary for cupcake baking and delivered them to the coffee table sitting in front of the new couch we had delivered that morning.
It took a while for Tessa, my rule follower, to warm to the idea of baking in the living room. Once she realized it was indeed allowed (just this once!) she felt as special as any three year old girl could.
It was a very happy birthday and as soon as dinner was served (on the couch) and the candles were blown out – this mama headed off to the ER. Sure enough, my discomfort was no laughing matter. I was having contractions! An ultrasound tech was called in to do a check on the baby and I was given some good meds to settle me down and make me more comfortable. Because the ultrasound tech wanted to double check everything was going well with the baby, she decided while we were observing baby we could try to find out the sex. I was elated!
Baby was doing well, but overly modest! So, no news on that front. It was a bit of a tease as we have never found out the sex of a baby before birth and are excited that this go around we’re going to try it out. Thankfully, I was too relieved and feeling too blessed to be all that disappointed.
The day definitely did not go as expected, but turned out to be such a blessed day for our growing family. I was reminded that I have the exact man God knew I needed as my husband, I watched 2 little gals blow out candles and get messy with frosting and I even got a sneak peak at our newest little blessing.
My husband’s ability to embrace the reality of the day and make the most of a bad situation created a better memory than the one I had scripted in my over obsessed head.