A little photo birthday post today, tucked away in my heart file titled, That Day She Turned Three. I love her at every age, but three? Three is the best.
Out came her photo books on the eve of her birthday, a whole three years worth of memories and love packed into pages I could turn and recount stories to her of the time she was in my tummy, of the time she took her first steps, of the time we took our first holiday with her and how much she cried and cried. We went through them, oh I don’t know, three billion times, Joel peering over our shoulder intermittently then saying to me, “Rach, thank you so much for doing these. They’re so good to have.” Needless to say, I nearly fell off my chair.
Later that night, we went to her favourite place for dinner: Il Forno Pizzeria, a cute little pizza place tucked away in a side street near us.
We cycled our bikes home way past the kid’s bedtime and slipped them into bed, the smell of pizza and salt air on their cheeks, kissing Ella more times than usual and confirming that yes, tomorrow would be her birthday.
She woke as soon as the day broke, calling out for us both and then asking in her signature high-pitched excited voice: “Is it my birthday now?”. We burst into her room as planned, throwing the balloons we’d scattered on her bedroom floor high into the air and singing happy birthday, all the while watching the smile on her face spread so wide I couldn’t see her eyes anymore. It was magic — a grand day indeed.
“Can you do my hair like Elsa, Mummy?”
She is so grown up now. My mother-in-law asked her if she’d had a nice birthday and she said, “Yes, I certainly did.” (???????) Three years is a long time, and I no longer see an infant. I see a girl. But yesterday, I slung her to the side of my hip and there she stayed for a lot of the morning, perched like she always used to. And for a brief second, I caught a tiny glimpse of her babyhood which would soon be lost forever. I smiled at her, and she kissed me, and for the millionth time in my life my soul dropped to its knees and wept with gratitude.
A Rainbow Pool Party is scheduled for the weekend, so excuse me while I jump on my birthday unicorn and get organized.