My children are blessed. They were born into a family with a ton of cousins. All born roughly at the same time. It seems in my Hubs family, if someone gets knocked up, well there is a rush to follow suit. Hence, many, many nieces and nephews to enjoy at family gatherings. And it is great. Loud, but great.
The Shalebug's birthday
was in January. He also has two cousins who have Jan. birthdays. (See what I mean?) So when it was time for the parties, we adults just lumped them together. Noisy fun. And lots of cake. Well, in the Shalebug's case, whipped cream and icing. I digress. Because my Hubs and I live on an acreage we have a lot of room for the tribe to roam. And we have a mighty fine tobaggon run. So, in January we generally throw the birthday party at our place. The kids hurtle themselves down the hill at breathtaking speed, and we adults pull them back up
the hill. (It is how we mothers stay thin.) The dads join in the fun, and play with fire. After everyone is exhausted and numb, the party is taken inside, to our very small home. Where the noise increases and bounces off the walls. And a great time is had by all. (Except for me, where I am uptight and need a drink to relax. That's me, the family lush. Kidding, dear internet.)
This January, well, we were grieving. And we had no snow. So my wonderful sister-in-law hosted the party at her house. Where we sang for the two kids whose birthday still mattered and we did a balloon release for the Bug up above. His siblings, Fric and Frac, really needed the gesture. As did I.
But tomorrow, the sledding-birthday party will once again be resurrected at our place, for the kids who have March b-days. I am nervous hosting the family for the first time since the DAY. But as I hurl myself down the hill on a flimsy piece of plastic, I will smile and know that live goes on, and so must I.