We started our birthday celebration bright and early this morning. The hub and I left some small wrapped gifts in the living room for Britton to discover this morning (kind of like Christmas) and I bought some helium balloons with Tinkerbell, Disney Princesses, and random "Happy Birthday!" Britton woke up 15 minutes early, and wandered into the living room, all wild-haired and wide-eyed. She took in the balloons, then the gifts, then the princess wrapping paper, and said, "Today's my birthday?" Oh yes, Britton. Today is the day!
To a three-year-old, fingernail polish and lip gloss rings are the best presents ever...
I took Britton to school, then headed out to pick up her birthday cake. I went back to her school at afternoon snack time, and helped with her "party"! I brought party hats, blowers, stickers, and princess plates. It was also another girl's birthday, so we made snack time a joint birthday party. It was great that we could do this, so Britton really felt like she had a birthday party. A hotel lobby isn't an ideal place for a party, and honestly, I didn't want our temporary living situation to take away from her celebration.
Leaving school was a whole other matter, as SOMEONE decided to stop being the nice appreciative birthday girl, and threw fits and attitude my way. She refused to get into the car, refused to even walk outside, tried to claw her way back into the school building, and ended it all by slapping me in the face while I was struggling to buckle her into her carseat. I have a hard time justifying spanking if the message is "we don't hit," but I was beyond mad at her behavior. So I finished wrestling her into the carseat, sternly told her that we don't hit, and promptly started crying in the daycare parking lot.
Sometimes you just hit your limit, you know? But I didn't want Britton's birthday to be ruined, even if it was her own behavior that was ruining it. I ignored her the entire way home, put on the new Laurie Birkner CD she had received just that morning, and by the time we got home she had calmed down. I told her we were trading apologies - I was sorry for yelling and she was sorry for hitting. And it may have been the quickest apology I've ever received from her.
We went upstairs and did her concrete handprint (every year, the same kit). Then Britton opened up her remaining presents (some clothes from Disney for our annual Disney trip - she's wearing her Tinkerbell dress below) and Cammy's gift (Minnie Mouse below). Under Sadie's close supervision, of course.
Once the hub got home from work we had a quick dinner and then on to cake! I had bought a miniature Ariel doll to go on the cake, but Britton spotted it not-so-hidden on the top of the fridge. I figured she wouldn't care if it made it to the cake or not, so I handed it over.
The hub and I started singing "Happy Birthday to You!" and Britton refused to blow out the candle! In an effort to prevent the smoke detector from going off (it goes off every time I so much as turn on the oven) the hub "helped" Britton blow out her candle. She considered that a good solution!
Finally, we gave Britton her big present - a dollhouse! It's from KidKraft, wooden with 19 pieces of wooden furniture, and it was a hit! Funny story - Aunt Jessica bought Britton a family for her dollhouse, but the package has yet to arrive. So while I was scouring for party hats and balloons at Dollar Tree (because, oddly, Party City had no hats and no helium) I saw a miniature doll. And I snatched it up on the off chance that the local postal workers didn't feel like walking the five feet to my post office box.
So Britton peered into the dollhouse, and first thing she says is, "Oh, a baby!" I had laid the doll on the top bunk bed in the house. Then she looks around and goes, "But there's no mom? No dad?" I assured her they were just late to the party, so to speak.
And to further prove to the hub that I can't have nice things, see that bow attached to the top of the dollhouse that I just had to add? The adhesive won't come off without taking the roof with it. So it's staying. And at this point in the night, the Little Mermaid shirt was put on top of the Tinkerbell dress. She's got my fashion skills!
Dear Britton,
I had no idea end-of-two-almost-three would be as hard for you as it has been. Don't get me wrong - you're a happy child, first and foremost. But you yearn for a freedom you can't handle quite yet. And you so want to do it all yourself. Trust me, in time, you will. You'll do it all. But for now, I'm still going to follow you as you ride your bike, I'm still going to hold your hand in the parking lot, I'm still going to yell at you to stop when you've run too far.
You have taken to Sadie just as I once mused on this blog - you two are thick as thieves. In fact, when you've lately refused to get dressed in the morning, it was me pretending to have Sadie hand you clothing that got you to get dressed. And when that stopped working, we just put you in your next-day clothes instead of pajamas at bedtime. Because when I only have an hour with you before I have to go to work, I don't want to spend it frustrated and yelling.
Three birthdays, three different states: first - Oklahoma, second - Texas, third - Pennsylvania. You've weathered all these major changes better than I admit that I have. You are a leader in your class at daycare, and you made friends with your classmates so quickly. But you still ask about your previous teachers and classmates, and I don't have the heart to keep telling you that you aren't going to see them again. And turning three only seven weeks after starting at your new daycare, you're now being transitioned into another new class. But your teachers report you're transitioning well, and I don't know any different to think they aren't being truthful. You are resilient. You are capable of handling change. As routine-based as you are, and believe me, you are, you have handled these changes remarkably well.
Britton, you are my light, my supreme couch cuddle buddy who demands her arms and back be tickled every night and I oblige because I used to pay your Aunt Jessica $1 a minute to tickle my arms and back. You delight in things my adult years have taken away, and it is through your eyes, your laugh, your observations that I get to glimpse my own first years of life, a time I will never remember. You are stubborn, man are you stubborn, and hardheaded, but that only further reminds me that you are in fact your mother's daughter. I love you, I love you, a million times I love you.
Mommy
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