When I look at these photos, I think, It's too bad Clementine Merriweather doesn't have many dimples...then I chuckle to myself at how hilarious I am. She's got dimples upon dimples upon dimples.
As you can probably tell, this little girl turned two yesterday. My littlest baby, still a baby in my eyes, really isn't much of a baby anymore. I really wanted to commemorate the occasion, with Pinterest-filled thoughts of a Cinderella party dancing in my head. Or, perhaps we could visit Lakeside (one of the oldest amusement parks in the country- I had many a birthday party here, my dad went as a boy, and we have lots and lots of memories at this place that twenty years ago was scary and run-down but has suffered through it to have graduated to the esteemed status of vintage and cool). When my party planning efforts failed and my husband informed me that this would be one of the busiest work weeks of his life, I thought I could scale back. I had the idea of visiting my aunt, who shares the same birthday as Clementine, sometime during that day, but discovered she would be out of town. Suddenly it was the night before the birthday and my sister asked me if I had a party or something like that, or even anything at all, planned.
"No."
"What about the epic Cinderella party we talked about???"
"Sure, Steph, sounds great. We'll be Cinderella in rags and you be the Fairy Godmother who shows up and makes a party appear!"
"Well, do you want me to come over?"
"Yeah, I guess. I don't know what we will do, but I can at least promise you a birthday dessert. I mean, I'm not even promising a birthday cake, but at the very least there will be stale Oreos."
Yesterday, on Clemmie's birthday, I had to leave early to take Gideon and Evie to piano lessons, so I just got a chance to say good morning to my birthday girl. When I got home, after being with her for a half hour, she fell asleep and took one of those long afternoon naps.
Around three in the afternoon, I admit that I had a meltdown. I sat down in the hall and cried. I felt like a terrible mother.
My mom and three daughters surrounded me and comforted me.
"Mom, it's fine. Clemmie is only two. She'll never remember this birthday."
"Let us go the store and grab a cake mix and we will make her a birthday cake."
"Invite Aunt Amy and our cousins and see if they can come over for just dessert. Afterward, we can watch the Olympics."
"You're being so silly! You knit your daughter a sweater for her birthday- I didn't give you girls handmade presents growing up!"
I realized I was perhaps being just a little bit silly. We ended up throwing together a cake mix, cleaning up the house, wrapping a couple presents, inviting my sister's family, and it did kind of feel like Cinderella in her rags, making do with what we had.
And, somehow, the magic happened. Almost like the fairy godmother really did visit.
Grace dressed Clementine in her party dress.
We found a glittering number two decoration leftover from another birthday and watched Clementine run around outside with it and I quickly grabbed my camera and took some pictures. Had you happened upon those pictures on Pinterest I'm sure you would have thought I was one of those moms who staged a photo shoot weeks, or at least days, ahead of time. No, these pictures were thrown together in a matter of minutes. Click, click, click, click, hey, I really like that!
Clemmie's aunts and cousins arrived. Gifts were set on the table and Clementine let out the longest squeal. She knew from her sibling's birthday parties what a present was, I guess. She was so excited.
We sang happy birthday and played a few songs on the piano and she laughed and danced.
She opened her first gift, and she let out the loudest shriek of delight. My mom had gotten her a baby doll. You may know that I used to make all natural Waldorf dolls and sell them on Etsy. I'm sort of (sort of) a purist when it comes to natural toys. I mean I'm not too extreme, but I have never bought my kids plastic dolls with batteries that cry and wrinkle up their faces and make sucking sounds when you put a pacifier in their mouths. Well, this is exactly the sort of doll my parents bought Clementine. I mean, if you are used to all natural dolls stuffed with organic wool, the doll may have even looked a bit scary. But when she opened it up, you would think that Clementine was a mother who had just laid eyes on her own newborn child for the first time. For the rest of the night Clementine held that baby and put the pacifier in and out of the doll's mouth, over and over and over. She showed us the doll, but she didn't lay it in our laps to hold. She wouldn't set it down.
Later on, my aunt, the one I wanted to visit, but couldn't, gave us a call and we did FaceTime. We got to give each other great renditions of the birthday song. Clementine and her great aunt were each delighted by the phone call.
I put the sweater and bonnet on Clementine, despite her protests, and realized what great knitting project it ended up being.
Clemmie blew out her two candles after charming us with her antics around the cake, sneaking a finger in and tasting the frosting before we cut the cake.
The party ended with Olympics watching and Clemmie walking around from person to person, showing off her baby doll or pushing it in the stroller, or placing it in the high chair to feed it. After the long afternoon nap, Clemmie stayed up cheerfully until eleven, and finally we put her to bed. She didn't quite make it until the stroke of midnight, when the spell would have been broken. Instead, the party was over before the magic ended.
