Last Saturday we blessed Ryan. Finally. Yes, he is almost five months old. Whatever.
I had big fun plans for the day. We would invite everyone who lives in the Valley on both sides of our family to come over for lunch and an Easter egg hunt. Everyone would bring a dish to share. I would have beautiful decorations–garlands and balloons and streamers everywhere–and bake a delectable layer cake. We’d bless baby boy in the comfort of our home, eat yummy food, and laugh and play with cousins.
Yes, I had the perfect party all planned out in my mind.
And then the sickness hit.
Margot came down with a crazy high fever Wednesday night. Mila followed soon after. I knew it was serious when she took a two hour nap in the middle of the day, because on a normal day she literally never stops moving. I couldn’t ask anyone to bring their children over and risk getting whatever bug was keeping them down, so I gave everyone a warning that the plague had hit and they might want to stay away.
And then they stayed sick. Not sick enough to worry me anymore, but just sick enough to be whiny and needy and annoying. I averaged four hours of nonconsecutive sleep for a couple days, which did not help my mood and left me with little energy for party prep. I agonized: do we cancel? Do we postpone? Grandparents had non-refundable hotel reservations, so neither of those options would work.
So we had a party. Not quite the one I had in mind, but a party nonetheless.
I blew up a billion balloons and that was all. I made some easy, feed-a-crowd food. Grandmas hid eggs for just my two big kids to find. David blessed Ryan. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough.
The balloon garland made the patio feel festive, and I still have crepe paper and things to use for some future party.
The girls filled several bags to the brim with Easter eggs. Margot only wanted pink ones, so Mila deliberately left them for her to find. No wonder Margot introduced her to our guests as not her sister but “my best fwend.”
Ryan’s blessing was short, simple, and sweet: that he would be strong and brave, that he would be a good man, that he would be quick enough to keep up with his sisters, that he would have a desire to know his Father and his Savior.
We had four generations present. I wish I had thought to get a picture of baby boy with his great-grandparents, but I was too busy sitting and listening to them swap stories with my in-laws.
I didn’t actually get any pictures of the man cub of the hour because he pooped on his clothes before people even showed up. I wound up stripping him to his diaper and putting him down for a nap while we ate. It’s okay. All those people whose genes he carries? They didn’t care what he was wearing or that he just wanted to sleep. They love him because he is theirs
So no, it wasn’t the Pinterest-worthy party I had dreamed of hosting. But it was exactly the kind of party that makes me want to host more.
It was a good party. It was a good day.