My little girl turned 5 at the weekend. We threw a party for her and invited all her friends. She was so excited and has been asking ‘how many days is it my birthday’ since Christmas. It was a great party, at least up until the end when her brother set the oven on fire (everyone escaped unharmed!).
My children’s birthdays are always a source of sadness for me, but this one has caused the greatest sting in the eyes so far. My first born isn’t that little girl anymore, with a few curls on the top of her head. I feel sad, so sad that the cuteness and innocence are going. She still believes in fairies and Father Christmas, but for how long. I see the little pudgy hands get longer and lose their creases.
Julian doesn’t understand why I feel so sad she is growing up. Maybe that’s him or maybe it’s men in general? He has a 13-year-old daughter already, so perhaps he knows something I don’t. He says every year older gives you something more, but I can’t help thinking it takes something away, those little baby creases and that innocence for a start.
It doesn’t sound good I know, needy mother. What I need is her to stay 4 forever. As far as I know, it’s my favorite child age. 4-year-olds don’t tantrum, and through effective bribery, they do pretty much everything you ask and believe everything you say. She draws a picture of me every day in school, always the brightest pictures with rainbows and butterflies. I know this cant last forever. If I could freeze her in time in a manner where she didn’t age and was unharmed, I would seriously consider it.
Kids aren’t as cute after 6. Perhaps this will be different when it's my own. It's ridiculous I know when some people are desperate to have children and I’m moaning about how they are going to lose their baby fat. I am going to be one of those middle-aged women I once saw looking wistfully at little children, eyes all sparkly with the remnants of an earlier time in her life, yep that will be me.
On request, I baked her a unicorn cake for her party, or rather I assembled it. I’m a rubbish baker, for some reason the cake never rises and comes out of the oven like a tasty pancake. Ironic really, since it’s just following a recipe, quite like a scientific experiment. Might explain why I wasn’t a very practical scientist either. Now I am team Betty Crocker all the way. She really has revolutionised the hellish experience that is making a birthday cake. Just lob it all straight from the packet into a bowl and away you go. So I buy the cake mix and the icing and put it all together. Even doing it the cheat way it still takes me a whole day, perhaps I procrastinate too much. The end product is actually a pretty good liking to the unicorn cake I googled on the internet.
As I watch my daughter blowing out her candles my heart swells at the beautiful person she is becoming. I realise that her passing years are difficult for me to swallow, as it signifies the passing of time at a rate I’m not happy with. I was a young girl once too, just like her, blowing out the candles. I played, I explored, I learned and I loved. I am sad because I know that in the blink of an eye I am standing on this spot watching her now. If I freeze her in time, she could remain innocent forever. I could keep her in a little pink bubble hidden from all the worlds harshness, where she would never get hurt, disappointed or scared. But how could I do that? She would never be free to play, explore, learn or love, and what would the point be then.
I wonder if my parents felt like this when they watched me blow out my candles, my mum and my dad. My father is no longer with us, and yes, maybe that’s why I’m sad. I know that in the blink of an eye she will be watching her child blow out their own candles and maybe I won't be there either, or Julian. I know this is life, that it is all part of life’s rich tapestry. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Life’s Rich Tapestry Source
