Happy Birthday, Coriel!

Drum roll, please! Coriel, the brilliant, the gorgeous, the hilarious, the delightful, has lived through another fabulous year. She has been so many things this year—monkeys, babies, princesses, knights and pirates, Fancy Nancy, my mother, Addra’s mother, ponies, detectives, heroes and villains, a sister, a daughter, a friend. She has learned so much as well. Lots of writing, a bit of reading, scripture stories, far too many Dora and Diego stories, Articles of Faith, how to unload the dishes and sort laundry (sort of), how to make lemonade, how to say “spoon” instead of “foon.” The Coriel of a year ago would seem so much younger, smaller, and probably quieter than today’s Coriel. It is strange to think that five years ago she was small enough to fit inside my (admittedly ginormous) abdomen. How could she have ever been that tiny? (And yes, I know this is a terribly clichéd sort of thing to say, but too bad.)

This year during the summer, she decided she wanted a butterfly birthday party a la Fancy Nancy. Given her mercurial tendencies, I wasn’t convinced that it would stick. But it was summer, the time for buying all things butterfly-ish. So we went with it, and then from time to time we had to slightly reconvince her that this year was the butterfly year.

The party was sheer madness, let me just say. Fun, but madness. I don’t think my house was meant to hold 18 children and six to nine adults all at the same time. We sent out butterfly invitations that Coriel colored, and we hung butterflies from the ceiling (which we girls love so much I think we may never take them down). We had butterfly crafts and party favor bags. We played pin-the-stinger-on-the-bee (we extended the party outward to all insects just in case someone didn’t like butterflies—wouldn’t want to be discriminatory, you know). We played this great chrysalis game, which involved wrapping small children in streamers of toilet paper. Good times. We had hot dogs and butterfly cupcakes (thanks, Carlynne!), none of which got ground into the carpet (amazing). Coriel’s friends were all so much fun to have over—and so noisy! They were thoughtful, fun, and incredibly generous in their gift giving and their friendship. Coriel had a very hard time deciding what to play with first. Everyone left eventually with a set of antennas and some party favors (including treat bags shaped like butterflies, of course), and the house seemed so empty. But only for about five minutes, which is how long it took before the girls started pulling out every single thing that Coriel had just gotten and spreading them around the house.  Ah, the fun.

For the actual day of her birthday, she got a pretty new dress to wear to church. She had toaster strudel for breakfast and pizza for dinner. She gave a talk in Primary at church, and it was awesome. She wrote the whole thing down on a piece of paper and then she sort of “read” it: “I love missionaries. I can do missionary work now by service and kindness.” Short, to the point. Then we went home and had turkey. Yes, turkey. Our neighbors gave us one, so Brice brined it overnight (inspiring me to start singing, “O briny turkey, o briny briny…” and such) and it cooked during church. Delicious.

Now back to the birthday girl. She also got some other clothes (lots), a couple of books (including the ubiquitous Fancy Nancy), and a set of ponies. She spent the rest of the afternoon talking to them and sending them around the house on various adventures.

Now she is finally in bed, resting and dreaming silly dreams about hippos eating various bizarre objects. Tomorrow she will be another day older, sweeter, and smarter. She will also be another day wilier, crazier, and more crazy-making. We will play with her new ponies and dolls and books and art supplies and such. We will laugh wildly and she will argue with me like only a young child can. (“Coriel, it will hurt if you fall off the bed like that.” “No it won’t.” “Coriel, that dress doesn’t fit you anymore.” “Yes it does.” “Coriel, you’re driving me crazy!” “No I’m not.” That sort of thing.) We will both learn something new, and at the end of the day she’ll go to bed again and I will too, and we will each be glad for another day.

And now some pictures for your enjoyment. Placed here with very little order, poor or random formatting, and much frustration, all courtesy of Blogger.

Brice looks great with antennae!

As per usual, she ate all the frosting on top before she bothered with the cupcake at all.

Presents!

This is actually her third outfit of the day.

Our sweet neighbor Jean. Coriel insisted on taking a picture of her with the ponies.

After the chaos, Addra commandeers Coriel's doll.

If these are not enough pictures for you, here are some more:

October pics
November pics
Birthday pics

Five Things for Friday

Pretentious: So, you remember the guys you used to mock in high school because whenever they passed a mirror, they would look in it and artistically muss up their hair? I am now one of those guys. No, I don’t actually do this for every mirror I pass (I’m sure it’s only every third or fourth one). But essentially my hairstyle now is “messy—but on purpose.” And I can’t help it that, every morning when I do my hair for the day,* I feel just a little bit pretentious.

Houseguests: You know how Benjamin Franklin said “fish and visitors stink after three days”?** In the case of my current guests, I must say they are still smelling as fresh and lovely as the day they arrived. We have been happily hosting two of my sisters and three of one sister’s kids since Wednesday (I suppose this means they could start smelling tomorrow? I doubt it though). They are lovely houseguests.

I, on the other hand, am not the most lovely of hostesses. I do try, really, but I think it says something about the situation that they have probably done more dishes and meal preparation than I have, definitely made more beds than I have (what? make my bed? why?), and done my daughter’s hair more than I have. In fact, it’s quite possible that my house will be cleaner after they leave than before they came.

NaNoWriMo and other literary craziness: Yes, I sort of forgot to mention it, but I did achieve my NaNoWriMo goal! Calloo callay! I celebrated by eating ice cream and doing a happy excited dance very quietly (so as not to wake up the girls). And then I promptly started dreading all the editing the novel would require. You think I’m joking or exaggerating or something, but I’m really not. Take, for example, this passage.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lewis. And me and Gillian—Fgillian and I--we’re just planning on studying. Just studing, all night long. Nothing else.”

Now I realliy winced. How could hep possibly have said thais in a way to  make her even more suspicoul? I coulnd’t think of a way.

“So that’s it,” I said to Mom, gently grabbing Sam’s elbow and trying to steer him toward the living room. “Like he said, just studying. We’ll be in here if you need us.”

I practicaly had to yank him the rest of the way into the living room, and then I just stared at him for a minute. “Realyy? I asked. “You had to meniotn it three times? Nothing suspcious there. For a guy who’s good with words, you’re awfully dumb sometimes.” I smiled to take a waawy the sting.

Take a gander, if you please, at just the need for spell checking (ignoring altogether everything else that might be wrong with it). This, my friends, is what my writing looks like during NaNoWriMo. So, yeah, there’s a lot of work to do.

On the other hand, I’m taking a break, as Brice already mentioned, to do something completely different in December. A contest! Facing off against… my husband (and probably countless faceless masses)! So wish me luck.

Thirty-something: Yes, indeed, I had a birthday. I have now achieved the ripe old age of … (drum roll, please) … thirty-one. I don’t feel particularly old.*** I know lots of women dread reaching the thirties, but I must confess a lack of consternation over it last year, and no more consternation this year. The only real problem is this: shouldn’t I be a little more mature by now? Don’t you think? Say, maybe by now I should have stopped using the word “like” extragrammatically? Or dealt with and tossed out a little more emotional baggage? Or, I dunno, at least learned to make my bed in the morning?**** Perhaps these shall be tasks for the coming year. But honestly, folks, life is pretty awesome, even at thirty-one (especially with the Fantastic Hubby of Shininess).*****

I can’t count: It turns out that I can really only think of four things today. I’m sure if I were feeling more brilliant, I’d come up with something else. But… no.

*Okay, maybe not every morning. I don’t actually even do my hair every morning.

**Obnoxiously, the Googoracle could not inform me whether he actually said “smell in three days” or “stink after three days.” So please don’t send me hate mail telling me I quoted it wrong.

***More correctly: I don’t feel particularly old until I have conversations with friends in which I realize they are twenty-one (cough, cough, Rachel a couple years ago and now Meghan). And then I later realize that when I was graduating from high school, my friend was… eight.

****Please see above section, “Houseguests.”

*****And he didn’t even have to bribe me to call him that. Actually, if he’d come up with the name, it would probably have been way cooler.