(*Holly, I threw that word in for you in honor of your 'words with friends' victory!)
In discussing Eliza's hopes and dreams for her birthday party, the list she provided me was a mile long. After shaving off a few wants, we ended up with a swimming/slumber party with her cousins.
We met the party crew at Fairmont for a few hours of swimming. With so many Aunts, Uncles and Nanna's in attendance, Henry and Lottie were well taken care of. It left me free to spend quality time in the pool with Eliza. And while she was intimidated to try the water slide on her own, the pair of us enjoyed floating through the lazy river.
Due to a random aversion to frosting, Eliza requested a donut cake. That made my job easy; especially since my Mom picked up the donuts from the store. While on the topic of my Mom, I'd like to thank her for hosting the party, fixing breakfast and calming one of special cousin as she felt a little homesick when it came time for bed.
After Eliza opened gifts, we passed out the party favor (a.k.a. matching pajamas). My assumption that the party goers would peacefully drift to sleep during the viewing of Yogi Bear that night was proved false. Still, they went to bed easily. The fun continued the next morning with pancakes, bacon and sliding down the stairs in sleeping bags. We missed the Chamberlain sisters but have great hope that future birthdays will be spent together. (!!!!!)
We're so happy to see these faces regularly!
Before I shift away from the Eliza centric blogging trend, I have to say that Andrew and I continue to be touched/humored by Eliza's emotional make-up. It would seem that her tear ducts are closely fused to her sensitive heart. Tiredness exacerbates this facet of her personality. I'd like to conclude with three short (?) examples; as it would be a shame (from my perspective) that they escape my memory.
Our weekend was spent at a cabin in Heber with a group of friends. Because bedtimes were extended for everyone; nap time became a vacation must. Except for Eliza. While ushering our children to bed, Eliza becomes a fountain of waterworks. Sitting in the loft that overlooks the great room below, she tearfully asks,
"Mom, what if I drop my sippy cup down there? It would shatter into so many pieces. Would the police come and take me away from you forever?" I don't know what was said to inspire that thought process but she was a mess at the very thought.
Coming home from said vacation, the kids are watching, "The Little Mermaid." Eliza is doing a little better in being able to stomach the tense moments. As the final battle plays between the sea witch Ursula against Ariel and her comrades, I hear her rapidly sniffling. She is, once more, sobbing. My instinct is to scoop her in my arms and soothe her through the final moment of Disney battle, but the luggage and coolers (among other vacation necessities) dissuade me. Embarrassed over my concern, she shields her splotchy, tear stained face with her pillow. A few minutes pass, and I'm able to catch her smile as she watches Ariel and Eric's happily ever after unfold.
Two nights ago, Eliza is at her bedroom door in tears. Bedtime has passed and her brain is creatively searching for ways to avoid sleep. Per our request, she obediently returns to her bed. Passing her door a few minutes later, I can hear that she is still upset.
"Eliza, what's the matter?" Whether or not she knows this is my weakness, I'm not sure. But I am confident that I can decipher when her tears are sincere. These tears were sincere.
"Mom! I MISS being four years old!" Surprised, I wait for her to finish, "But I really don't want to give back my birthday presents!!"
Heaven help her when she turns forty.