Saturday, April 14, 2012

We Interrupt This Easter Parade to Bring You a Birthday....

She was born at 3:50 on a Sunday morning, about an hour after we walked through the doors of the hospital.  The sonogram months earlier had only revealed a healthy human, so we were happily, joyfully, wonderfully surprised with our new baby girl.

On her first birthday we went to the zoo.

On her second birthday, she insisted on wearing a skirt to McDonalds for lunch.


On her third birthday, she got a penoir that she lived in for the next three years of her life.

It snowed on her fourth birthday, and we had an Easter egg hunt at her party.

When she turned five, we had the famous princess party and I turned our swing set into a castle.  She has no memory of this.  I worked my BUTT off at that party, and she remembers nothing.

At six she had a slumber party. SIX! Was I crazy?

On her seventh birthday, she got breakfast in bed, only I messed up and used salt on her cinnamon toast instead of sugar.

Eight. Eight seems to be missing from my memory bank at the moment.

When she was nine, we took nine girls swimming.

At ten, we took her to lunch and shopping.

I think eleven was the year of the next slumber party, and the famous slumber party cake with the Twinkies that looked like girls in sleeping bags.  It was also the year I barbecued hamburgers for all the girls and then stressed for three days that one of them was going to come down with e-coli.

When she turned twelve she and her friends dressed up crazy and we went to see Ella Enchanted.

I have a picture of her eating cake on her thirteenth birthday, but no memory of anything else.

Fourteen was shopping and pizza.

At fifteen, we took a whole passel of girls to breakfast at Village Inn.

Did we do a sixteenth birthday party?  I remember talking about it.  I don't remember what we did though.  I think she did something on her own with friends.

17 and 18 are a bit of a blur as well.  I'm sure there were family dinners and gifts galore.

At nineteen we took her to Chili's.  Or was that her 20th?  Wait, how old is she this year? 21?

21?

Wait. I have a 21 year old daughter?

What the--?

Oh, and she is thousands of miles away this year, in Portugal of all places?

She is celebrating her 21st birthday in Portugal.

I'm not there to turn her swing set into a castle, but I bet she will have a fabulous birthday all the same.

We'll be here, in the rain, in Syracuse, eating birthday cake with nobody to blow out the candles.

Crap. I just made myself cry.

Happy Birthday Alisa!  We miss you.

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