Entitlement, folks - it runs rampant around here.
|Anna got 2 of these|
So Larry and I ended up driving 6 girls (Susie rounded out the guest list) to pizza and bowling. The guy at the bowling alley looked at us sort of funny when our small crew walked in, as we were required to pay for 12 guests in order to book the party. The party room did feel a little large for us - add to that the fact that most of the girls who attended fit the classic introvert personality type, and we had what was probably the quietest birthday party ever. Seriously, I've been to funerals that were less sedate.
And now I get to change Rachel's age over in the sidebar profile there, while marveling at the fact that she was a wee lass of 4 when I began this blog. I don't know where the past 7 years have gone; and I'm not sure I can bear watching everyone get older and older in these pages anymore. It's painful to have such a tangible record of time passing, passing, more swiftly than I ever could have imagined when I started writing here, back in the days of babies and nap times and toddler tantrums. It makes me want to go back and make up for all the times I ignored her pretty little self while I typed at the computer or read my email. Anyone else want to hug each of their 2-year-olds just one more time?
Still, I cling to the hope that my grown children will treasure these family stories someday. I even fondly imagine that they will read these pages and recognize their mother as a fellow human being and not just as the flawed parent who begged them to just stop talking and who sneaked their teddy bears into the trash. Maybe the incidents I relate here will even make them feel better about their own grown-up lives, imperfect as they are bound to be.
Birthdays make me maudlin, can you tell?
And, yeah, I AM listening to "The Circle Game" over and over. What of it?