For all the hats that I lovingly wear, I admit, event thrower is not one of them.
Just the thought of planning and hosting events makes me sweat. Seriously. Like time-to-go-slather-on-some-more-deodorant sweat. Sometimes, it's like the world is just too big – like there are too many possibilities. Pink? Purple? Sequins? Tropical? Formal? Black? White? Finger food? Beverage cart? Balloons?
Seriously. I'm sweating just thinking about it.
Alas, this past weekend, I had no choice. After all, my dear little rascal was turning three. Three, people. And turning three is a fabulous reason to throw a party. Especially when you're a little girl obsessed with all-things-princess (seriously? where did this obsession come from?) and you'd really like to have an excuse for the house to be decorated with pink balloons, streamers, princess stickers, and all things sparkly.
I'm sure there was a time when I would have loved a pink sparkly birthday party. I asked her if she wanted a Cowgirl Party. “No, tanks”. She's been insistent that she have a pink party for months now.
I couldn't help it. I had to throw the little girl a little (seriously, it was very small) par-tay. I mean, this was no Pinterest party, if you know what I'm saying. There wasn't a color-coded candy station or a rainbow cake. Nor were there handmade party favors or gift bags.
What there was was a collection of people, surrounding a cake that involved six sticks of butter, loving on this little munchkin.
Yes. I said six. And it was deeeelicious.
And please, forgive the lack of photographs. But as usual, I was wearing many hats: including Mama, wife, host, party-planner, beverage-getter, lactation-er, diaper-changer, and referee. Photographer sort of got quickly shoved to the bottom.
I did capture a few moments though, which I'm thankful for. I have loved getting to look back at old pictures of Georgia on the blog and I so appreciate how they can capture those sweet, sweet moments that slip so easily from my memory.
Memories like THIS.
It's pretty cool actually, that you my dear readers, have watched Georgia grow as I have. She was only two months old when I began this blog almost three years ago and I know many of you have been faithfully praying for her and for us through that time. What a fantastic little one she has grown into!
Sure, she still pretends like she doesn't hear me when I tell her ‘no more dessert'. And on occasion, she'll change her outfits more times in a day than I have fingers on my hands. She's feisty. She's opinionated. She hates cuddling.
But she is a beautiful child of God. One that I am so thankful the Lord has given me the opportunity to care for while she is on this earth – whether it be for three years or three hundred. She is His. As am I. And to know he has given her to us to enjoy for these past three years is humbling. And remarkable.
She told me just this morning that she wished Jesus didn't live so far away (in Heaven, with God, that is). I replied ‘Oh, but he doesn't baby! He lives in your heart! He's right here'. She thought for a moment…
“I tan't see him. But Jehaws lubs me. And Jehaws lubs Daddy. And Jehaws lubs Owen. And Jehaws lubs Mommy! And Jehaws lubs eryone!”
True dat, girlfriend. May you preach it for many more years to come!