Oh dear I've been drowning in birthday madness as my Betsy turns 6 in just hours. Six years ago this minute I was trailing amniotic fluid across the lobby of Brigham & Women's Hospital.
Six years later my daughter and I bake cupcakes and trade email tips.
Because it's 11 p.m. and I'm dog tired. I leave you not with words, but with pictures of those toys of childhood - my own childhood - that keep popping into mind every time I watch Betsy unwrap a Webkinz or American Girl Doll accessory.
Come on, toys were better way back when, weren't they? We had our own ovens!
We had dolls of color - who were nurses!
Feel good princesses be damned, we worked out our emotional angst with games dared to be called "Trouble".
And my absolute favorite toy of all time, a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car with wings.
I've got happy birthday signs all around the house - our birthday morning ritual, Bets pads around in her pajamas finding each one - 18 cupcakes for 18 classmates, birthday cards addressed to Bets from the kitty and from Julie and Molly (her American Girl Dolls). I packed a special lunch for Bets, and will be going to school with her in the morning to read a book to the class. Sunday was a whopper party and tomorrow night a big dinner.
All this and I forgot a present.
For crying out loud.
I mean Faith and I ordered something that has not yet arrived. Shouldn't we have had a back-up, something wrapped and tied up in a bow?
Sure there are worse things going on in the world every day. Sure we are all spoiled and over indulgent of our children. But darn.
The good thing about six is it's still young enough to pass off everything that happens as entirely normal and okay: having your present in the mail means you get to have your birthday last even longer.
Come on, it's better than being born in a wagon of a traveling show.