Today was Karis’s third birthday. It started out at six o’clock this morning when she came in to my bedroom and performed her usual angry rant about how the sun is out, and she doesn’t want to go back to bed, and she doesn’t want to be quiet – she wants to go DOWNSTAIRS. Each of these exclaimations are punctuated with open handed slaps to my body and head. I usually whisper furiously at her to be quiet, and that if she can’t be quiet she needs to leave the room or she’ll wake the baby. Her answer is almost always an even louder outburst about not wanting to be quiet and not wanting to leave. Today was no exception.

Jesse called her over to his side of the bed and tossed her up between us. Her grumbles slowly subsided and she dosed back to sleep.

Around seven o’clock she started ranting again. I looked over at her and she was still sound asleep. SHE WAS RANTING IN HER SLEEP. LOUDLY. She even smacked at the air a time or two, no doubt aiming at dream mommy. So charming, this daughter of mine.

Both Brecken and Karis stayed sleeping. I snuck out of bed at 8 to get a head start on the day before they woke up. They slept until 9! I couldn’t believe it.

The second time she woke up she was in a decidedly better mood. She wanted to know where daddy was. I knew if I told her he had already gone to work she would have a melt down, so I said, “I don’t know, let’s go look for him.”

She ran downstairs calling out, “Daddy. Daddy?” in her little cartoon voice. Then she called back up to me, “Mommy, he’s not here or there. He is working.”

The rest of the morning was a delight. We didn’t have to rush to school. I let her get there late.

I went back at 3 o’clock with birthday cupcakes for the class and got some great shots of her classmates. (I wont post them here because they are other people’s children and I don’t have permission.) I also got a few shots around the classroom, like this one:

You know your child is in a beautifully diverse school when all the dolls are dark skinned.

I also liked this shot:

So much attitude in shoes.

We came home, fielded birthday calls from the grandparents, (during which Karis insisted she wasn’t 3 until her party with the cake. I didn’t know that was an option. If I didn’t eat cake on my 30th birthday does that mean I’m still 29? I may be on to something here…) goofed around, made a late dinner and stalled stalled stalled for daddy to get home. He had a business dinner and I knew he would be home late but I was really hoping he would be able to see Karis on her special day. I finally gave up and let her open two presents before bath time.

Jesse called. He had played basket ball after the dinner (in his new, stiff dress shoes) and ripped giant gouges of skin out from the balls of both feet.

I told him it was karma for not coming straight home on his daughter’s birthday.

When he did finally get home I had to run to the drug store for gauze and ointment. It was 9 o’clock. Both kids were still up and screaming…

Now here I sit. It is 11 o’clock. I am supposed to be making pastillage for Karis’s  birthday cake because it takes a long time to dry. My kitchen is covered in cereal puffs, drying rice pasta and chunks of tofu that were artfully launched from Brecken’s highchair. There is wrapping paper littering the livingroom in addition to the usual million toys scattered about. Dirty laundry is crawling up the stairs from the basement, no doubt planning a coup while we sleep. Tomorrow is garbage day and the storms of yesterday blew my garbage can down the hill. Now that Jesse is out of commission I will have the joy of tracking it down and bringing it home. *sigh* The pastillage will just have to wait till tomorrow.

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