three years


We held a small birthday brunch at our house this morning in honor of Celeste turning three years old. We majorly simplified this year by inviting just her little pals and their families: it was lovely and low-key. There was fine weather, beautiful guests, quiche, bagels, bourbon apple and pumpkin pies, champagne, a caldron full of beer, and a piñata stuffed with wands, spider rings and temporary tattoos. Celeste and I were glittered fairies, Rosa Maeve dressed as an artist and my husband wrapped himself in a bed sheet and tried to convince people that he was a wizard. I have no pictures of his wizard “costume” and he is quite outraged. It wasn’t an intentional oversight, it was just so much more delightful to follow the children with the lens.

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Today and tomorrow will always be sacred days in the story of my life. I knew by my contractions on the 19th of October in 2011 that I would meet my first child either that night or the next morning. It was a real feat welcoming that girl into the world and I’m not sure I will ever experience that level of triumph or exhaustion ever again. Celeste is extraordinary. She already has such command over her own soul that it takes my breath away. My heart is on fire with pride when it comes to her, no matter how much I may pretend to tire of her histrionics. In truth, I love her willingness to be big and bright and I will always thank her for choosing me to be her mama.

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