1....2....Three!

Phoebe turned three and had the birthday of her dreams. She got to wear a bedazzled crown, eat Lucky Charms for breakfast, and open presents. Phoebe is still overjoyed by the simplest things - like this pair of fairy wings from the dollar aisle. It is hard to not completely spoil her.

 We Skyped with the Raymonds so we could all sing "Happy Birthday." Phoebe requested a pink cake with pink frosting, lots of colorful sprinkles, and a strawberry and chocolate on top. When I asked her what kind of birthday party she wanted, she sometimes said "DORA!" and sometimes said "PINK!"

 We held her birthday party the week after her birthday so that Grandma could be there. When her friends started to arrive, we had some music time where we sang some of Phoebe's favorite songs.

 After everyone arrived, we played the Dora theme song and then followed "The Map" on an adventure around the neighborhood.

 I chalked up the sidewalks, drawing Dora and Boots and Swiper in strategic places. Our adventure took us to a garden, a playground (where we found the "estrellas"), and a big tree (where we hit a pinata).

 Grandma spent hours gluing pink and purple flowers on the pinata. The kids spent a few minutes bashing it to pieces. We returned home to a lunch of quesadillas, peas, applesauce, and cupcakes, and then opened gifts.

The result was gifts and torn paper strewn about the floor, mashed cupcakes in the rug, lots and lots of leftover peas (I guess not every toddler likes them as much as Phoebe does), and a very happy and tired Phoebe. Worth it.

Definitely worth it. I get all nostalgic at birthdays, busting out the photo albums and remembering just how physically and emotionally painful their births were. Phoebe was in the hospital longer, so I seem to have more memory triggers from that time: for instance, when I hear Reggae music it reminds me of driving to the hospital after putting Bruce to bed at night so I could visit Phoebe. There was a radio station that played Reggae at night and it was more often than not the only thing on, so I would listen to it and try to not worry, "be happy." The scent of Purell makes me remember the routine of sanitizing in the hospital until my hands were grossly chapped. When I read in the scriptures about Noah being on the water for 40 days or Jesus fasting for 40 days, I feel that length of time: Phoebe was in the hospital for that long and the days crept by so slowly and the end never seemed within reach. Phoebe did eventually come home, and it made Thanksgiving that much more meaningful for me. I am lucky to be a mom, and blessed to be Bruce and Phoebe's mom.