Margo à la Maude

We had a birthday party for Margo on Sunday -- technically a day before her first birthday. When Donna sent the invite, the idea was to have 2 cakes. You know, that way, people could choose. We had a lot of interest. Three cakes, no leftovers kind of interest. All throughout the party, I couldn't help but feel that neither Donna nor I could have gotten this kind of response if it was our birthday party, but that's the thing with kids: the first birthday... that's a biggie.


The funny thing about the party is that it felt like we were organizing a surprise party, but without hiding anything from Margo. Margo understands what a few things that we say and do mean, enough so that she knows when to ignore us. But she doesn't really have any experience with birthdays... how could she have known? Mama baking cakes, housecleaning, emailing, picking out nice clothes, shuffling furniture around... to Margo, just quirky coincidences. There's a photo that I took of Margo, checking out Mama making batter from the comfort of a laundry basket -- just another ho hum day. Probably more a factor of Mama testing out the KitchenAid stand mixer on loan to us (when you have a hammer, every problem looks like a nail; when you have a KitchenAid stand mixer, every problem looks like flour, eggs, cocoa, vanilla, etc.)

There might have been a small clue that something was different in that we kept putting things out of reach. Everywhere we turned, we could see this tuft of hair trying to figure out how to get at things on the table, like a shark, trying to figure out how to move the chair closer in order to climb up.

Fantastic party. A lot of old friends popping in, a lot of fresh, young faces. More old friends, more fresh faces. Okay, we're definitely outnumbered now. More friends, lots of young faces. By 2:30, I ran upstairs to check our life insurance to see if death by infantile swarming was covered. But it was really special to see so many people who wanted to share Margo's day with her.

Wait a sec... where's Margo?

Our dear daughter slept through the first 45 minutes of her party. And it sounds like a handful of her playmates didn't make it because of their own nap schedules. Live and learn: first birthdays work better when they're not during afternoon naptime.

Margo awoke with wet tears flowing down... likely a factor of her top molars coming in. Word has it that those are the most painful ones to come in. Painful for Mama too.

When she made her way downstairs, she was greeted by wellwishers of all sizes.

Confusion.

Mama's here. Papa's here. This tells me it's safe. Not so sure about the other 30 people. Stay alert. She warmed up quickly. All the toys were out, and she quite likes being surrounded by other kids. Playing strange was a thing of the past. She started having fun.

The invite mentioned that cake would be served at 3:00, so Margo only had a few minutes to settle in before being scooped up for another strange ritual. What the hell is going on here. She knows her high chair. She knows that high chairs mean food. She wasn't sure about being surrounded by others.

Margo does this wonderful thing when something good happens: she savours the moment. Sometimes she shows it with a little knowing grin. Sometimes, it's her active little fingers "strumming a harp" that give her away, regardless, she's one to take it all in. We laid a chocolate cake in front of her (brown sweatshirt... good thinking, Mama). Two fists came up almost in an "I surrender" manner... oh yeah, she was drinking in the moment.

And we all sang Happy Birthday.

And she barely acknowledged us.

And then the first probing finger checked out the frosting. And then Papa tore off a bit of cake and fed it to her.

Babies inately know how to do a lot of things, like cry when there's a problem and suck when they're hungry. And somewhere, millions of years ago, it's obvious that humans learned how to instinctively eat birthday cake, because Margo's next few birthday minutes were primal.




With the cake done, a little wash-up and checking the belly to see where all the cake went. And then playtime. Everyone stayed for a little while, and then there was an exodus to the park. It threatened to rain, but the skies cleared and it sounds like the kids ran themselves silly.

After the park, Donna and Margo came home and we relaxed a little with another family. And mealtime was upon us. The birthday doesn't end here. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. With sugar comes a sugar crash. And if every problem looks like a nail when you have a hammer, when you're 1 and have cake, everything else looks like not cake.

I was a little worried that it would be a long, cranky night, but bathtime calmed her down a lot. And Margo gave us a little present too: she became our little baby girl again. She snuggled in close to Mama for a long nurse. And when I came in to gather her for bedtime, she cooed and giggled, drunk with mother's milk. She curled in tightly to my chest for storytime. In all the commotion leading up to Margo's birthday, I realized that the only gift that I had to give her was an extra story at bedtime, but she graciously accepted. When I put her down in her crib, I brought Minou to her side and she laughed and hugged Minou. And she looked at me once more before I turned out the light, and smiled, her eyes crinkling a little.

A perfect day. It took a lifetime to get here.

- Michel

Labels: events

This entry was posted on Monday, September 10, 2007 at 10:32 p.m.. You can skip to the end and leave a response.