How the birthday celebrant ended her day

It was a busy day - I mean turning 6, opening presents, eating wonderful treats for breakfast, hosting a dance-karaoke party for 20 friends, going out to eat to celebrate your grandparents' anniversary. Falling asleep at the restaurant on your mum's lap is way better than tears.

Sophie's party

6 X 2!

Karaoke takes concentration

but it gathers a crowd.

Class+

Fuzzy but shows the rock star at her best

and Mr DJ

Me and my gal pal

Sneak peek of a new 6 year old

Off to the 19 kid dance party this afternoon, but first some snaps from this morning

Dad making a special breakfast

and the birthday girl enjoying it!

writing in her new journal at her auntie R's desk

great new outfit but can ditch the new pose...

 

 

 

 

 

I tell my children that I am pretty ok, thanks

I've started telling my daughters I'm beautiful 

from http://offbeatmama.com/2012/11/telling-daughters-im-beautiful?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=facebook

Guestpost by Amanda on November 13, 2012

 

I've started telling my girls that I think I'm beautiful. It's been so easy to tell them how beautiful THEY are, because it's obvious. They are the thing beauty is made of. They are the reason we started worshipping beauty. They sparkle and dance. When they're sleeping, they turn into soft cloud babies, little perfect tufts of white on the moonlight.

There are a lot of people like me. Women who know things. Women who have seen things. Women with diseases in their livers. There are a lot of women with scars on their arms and words that carry themselves like sparrows. There are women who were too big for this town, who had their backs bent carrying things like religion and a history that originated somewhere in the crook of a branch that extended over a stream. A place where a patch of the sky was visible through the leaves, where a little girl let her bare leg dangle too far down.

There are a lot of people like me, because we're all the same. We're all blood and electricity. We're lonely under the gaze of god. We're all wet with dew and swallowing hard against DO THIS, CONSUME, SHUT UP and BE AFRAID to die.

All of you women with lines on your brow, with cracks between your fingers… it's been a long winter. All of you, you are beautiful and so am I.

The thing is, my children are perfect. I am the grown up, so I'm supposed to show them everything about life. When they wake up in the morning, though, I stare at them and they're new. They teach me everything. They are babies and they teach me what it means to be a person. It's easy to see that they're beautiful.

I am slow and I am tired. I am round and sagging. I am harried. I am sexless. I am getting older.

I am beautiful. How can this be? How can any of this be true?

I don't want my girls to be children who are perfect and then, when they start to feel like women, they remember how I thought of myself as ugly and so they will be ugly too. They will get older and their breasts will lose their shape and they will hate their bodies, because that's what women do. That's what mommy did. I want them to become women who remember me modeling impossible beauty. Modeling beauty in the face of a mean world, a scary world, a world where we don't know what to make of ourselves.
"Look at me, girls!" I say to them. "Look at how beautiful I am. I feel really beautiful, today."

I see it behind their eyes, the calculating and impression. I see it behind their shining brown eyes, how glad they are that I believe I am beautiful. They love me. To them, I am love and guidance and warm, soft blankets and early mornings. They have never doubted how wonderful I am. They have never doubted my beauty. How confusing it must have been for them to see me furrowing my brow in the mirror and sucking in my stomach and sighing.

How confusing it must have been to have me say to them, "You think I am beautiful, but you are wrong. You are small and you love me, so you're not smart enough to know how unattractive I am. I know I am ugly because I see myself with mean eyes. You are my child and I love you, but I will not allow myself to be pretty, for you. No matter how shining you are when you watch me brushing my hair and pulling my dress over my head. No matter how much you want to be just like me, I can't be beautiful for you and I don't know why."

It's working, a little bit. I've even stopped hating myself, a little bit.

I'll be what they see. They see me through eyes of love. I'd do anything for them, even this.

I am beautiful.

Loyalty

Over my lifetime, several people have told me that I am a loyal friend, one who consistently reaches out across the miles and years to nurture long-standing friendships. It's even a character trait that my lovely fella admires in me. 

I have some excellent role models. Here is my mum and her friend of almost 40 years - Carol, plus Alec. Despite a difficult year for Carol and Alec, they re-routed their travel, so they could swing through Montreal to visit together. Looks like they had a lovely evening and inspires me to do the same with old far-flung pals.

And I think my young duo are forming some bonds that will last a lifetime.

Celebrating Free to Be You and Me

Yesterday, our local branch of the Toronto Public Library threw a very sweet celebration of the 40th anniversary of the iconic  Free to be You and Me.

 

 

So we chipped in by hosting a brunch for 17.

The spread!

The eaters

The soups (Butternut squash and roasted cauliflower and spinach)

Turning nine

Good morning to the rest of my life!!

"I made something for you, bro"

And what a special card it was.

Dancing before school to his very own music/video/story player (minus internet)

Lunch with Mum & Dad (opening the cousins' gift)

Dinner at Addis Ababa straight after work !!

Lovely Zack came along too

Someone was hungry for coffee-iced cake

Home for cake with the other birthday boy

and that other celebrant is known professionally as the green man

And the final costumes

Lego man and Ninja gal

Once again their dad wowed us!!