In my last post, I mentioned that I couldn’t put into words what disturbed me about my daughter receiving so many presents from her 4th party. But tonight I realized what was eating at me. It’s the same thing that ate at my parents when we combed the Sears catalog for toys that Santa could bring us.
It takes away from the true meaning of the event.
For us, the celebration of the birth of our daughter means much more than Barbies and brigadeiro.
As some of my readers know, we went through a couple rough years. We had two miscarriages within a 6 month period, totally devastating in that we had never intended to be parents, and then we were and totally embraced it, and then it was ripped away. Subsequently, my young husband dropped dead of a heart attack, yet lived to tell about it… yet no, he didn’t remember any of it, only his wife did. And it sucked.
So being a family, together the three of us, is really a miracle. Really. The birthday cake and the jumpy-jumpy and the barbies and the hot-dogs and the paper lanterns and the dolls are all just a pretty decoration around the real message rolled into the bottle.
We are so lucky to have our little girl.
And while I may not have taken a moment to do it then, I am doing it now. A big sigh of relief, a big kiss on the forehead of a small child and a brief glance at the heavens in appreciation of another year of sometimes unappreciated perfection.
Happy Birthday Sophia!