Yesterday Ingrid turned three, and we had a little party with all of her favorite people: Grandma, aunts and almost-aunts, former nanny, first friends.
If I’d been the toast-making type and not so busy scraping rice out of Iris’s hair, I would have said something elegant to thank Ingrid’s inner circle for all they’ve done to make her the magnificent and mostly happy girl she is. There’s probably no adequate way to convey the great, sloppy, absurd depth of my gratitude to these folks; I believe it is their love for Ingrid and for our family that’s gotten us through the past year and more. If there are words good enough for that, I was too distracted to think of them and too shy to say them.
Instead we made sparkly birthday crowns, blew bubbles in the yard, ate and ate, and sang a loud round of “Happy Birthday” to the happiest-looking girl in the world, who expertly blew out her three candles, then removed them from the cake, carefully licking the whipped cream from each one.
The hung over feeling is not related to anything consumed at the birthday party, alas, but from lack of sleep. Last week I lost the travel drive I use to carry all my files back and forth to the office. I had most files backed up, but late yesterday evening realized I’d lost several more hours of work than I’d thought, and those several hours needed to get done between, oh, ten and one last night. (This is not the first time I have lost a dramatic amount of data. I feel the need to mention this when it happens. PSA! Digital Loss: It could happen to you! Back up everything, not like me!)
I have some things to say about regret and friends and spring and desperation and what I was thinking about the Chris Offutt short story “Second Hand” while I was running the other day (Hi Eva!), but now I’ve got to finish the work I was too bleary to get to at one a.m. and then look for a clean shirt for my staff meeting this afternoon.
Oh, and yesterday was also Mothers' Day. A belated happy one to you and yours. In celebration, A bought me a purple rhododendron bush (ok, so we are into botanical commemorations around here), gave me a card with a picture of the ocean on it, and didn't blink when I spent way too much on plants on Friday.