Five
Dear Gideon,
Today you turn five years old and right now you are waiting patiently for your father to take you to preschool. He took the day off so that he could be with you and I think you understand how awesome that is. There are days when you and your sister cry when he leaves for work and although we all know that is the way it has to be, I think he feels the pull to stay with you too.
You opened presents from your grandparents yesterday and found, among other awesome items, a Star Wars Lego set. Everything else paled in comparison. Your party tomorrow, with guys from school and church, is Star Wars themed, as most of our days have been for some time now. Last October one of your classmates came to school as Darth Vader and your world moved from firefighting to intergalactic space adventure. Our house hasn’t been the same.
We tell stories about podracers and The Force. We run from room to room to save the galaxy from the Imperial forces. We watch You Tube video clips from all the episodes. You request them like this: May I please watch Star Wars Episode 4 Part 6? And most of the time, I say yes. You usually take the things you watch and then reenact them with your Legos. It’s inspiring and it’s fun.
Five years ago, when they placed you on my chest in Dallas, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I didn’t know how to soothe you or how to help you sleep. I didn’t know how to make sure you were eating enough or what to do if you got sick.
I couldn’t have imagined this day then. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d love math so much. That fractions would come naturally or that addition and subtraction answers would just be in your head without you having to work at it. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be so observant, noticing everything from changes in the tree in our front yard to the mood changes in the room. I didn’t know that you’d have a better sense of direction than most adults and knack for maps and mazes.
But I knew then, just as I do now that I love you with a fierceness I cannot put into words. I know that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. I know that you are sinful and desperately wicked. I know that you have a Savior who gave Himself up for you so that you might be reconciled back to your Creator. I know that His love for you is even more intense than mine. I know that I am praying every day for you to grow up with a heart and head ready to obey the Father you can’t see even as we train you to obey the one you can.
Love,
Mama
Cupcake Dramz
You guys. If we are friends on spacebook, then you already know about the stupid time I tried to make buttercream frosting turn black. Let me tell you what the tiny bottle of black Wilton’s food coloring should have said. It should have said “HEY! Add a TINY amount or your frosting will taste insanely awful!!” Possibly they might want to add curse words or more exclamation points to make sure that people really understand.
A friend and her adorable baby had stopped by before I’d added said black death to the frosting and she claims to not like buttercream but once she tasted that frosting she was possibly swayed. It was whipped so nicely that she thought maybe Cool Whip was involved. I take that as a compliment.
After she and her adorable baby left I decided to get down to business and get those cupcakes frosted. I added the black. Added a little more. And frosted. Then I tasted them and was seriously grossed out. I made the kids come into the kitchen (also, why were they being so quiet? oh, they were just covering Piper in stickers). I made them taste the frosting too [insert SNL clip here] except that neither of them even cared about the bitterness of the black coloring. They were a little giggly from all of the sticker application, so perhaps that had something to do with it. But I strategically decided to leave them alone while I made dinner.
Made. Consumed. Played with children. Read Stories. Made up stories about someone named Plideon who flies X-Wing fighters. Sang Songs. Prayed. Walked back into kitchen.
For real. I knew I couldn’t send those cupcake to school for Gideon’s birthday. First, they were getting darker as they were exposed to air and I thought that probably meant they were getting grosser to taste too. I couldn’t really send my kid to school with gross frosting. He’d have to wear the shame of the gross cupcakes for two more weeks. That’s not fair to him or my need to make people love the food I make. It’s probably more about that than the kid, but see how easily I can use his needs to mask my own?! Ah, motherhood.
Speaking of moms, that is who I called to force me into making the new frosting. I already knew it was what needed to be done, but I didn’t really WANT to waste all that (gross) frosting. I was all “What should I do?” And she was all “just wipe it off with a spatula”. So that’s what I did.
And then I made some new frosting.
It is blue.
