We survived our major birthday weekend.  

The twins got to go to the farm on Friday morning to spend the day and the night with their Grandma and Grandpa.  It was their first night away from home by themselves…ever.  And they LOVED it.  LOVED IT.  Seriously, my MIL apologized that she really couldn’t say they missed us because they just seemed to be having too much fun to worry about our absence.  And I say…Perfect!  No need to apologize on that account…when did you say you wanted to keep them again?

So they had a great time. And honestly, Friday went pretty well at our house, too.  Eric took a half-day off work and manned Megan while I did cakes.  I’m pretty sure Megan never once was concerned that the twins weren’t around.  She ate up all the two-on-one attention like she’d just been waiting for the last year for us to get our priorities straight and focus entirely on her.  Nice, right?

Saturday, we were up and to the farm by 10:30 or so.  The family came for a party around noon. Really, we had a great time just chatting and hanging out and laughing together.  And Alex really loved all of Megan’s presents.  I’m not sure Megan yet knows they are actually for her to play with.  Again…nice.

Anyway, we came home just in time for bedtime on Saturday night (having done baths and dinner before we left).  Then up for church on Sunday morning.  Then home so Megan could get down for a nap before my family arrived for her second party (thus, the second elephant cake if you missed my pic on FB).

Eric and I started working on cleaning up, getting the food ready, and finishing other random party prep.  And somewhere in there, it hit me.  I realized I was getting sick.  My head got a bit fuzzy, and my throat got a bit sore.  So that’s when I sort of down-shifted into survival mode.  But even still, we had a good time.  The cousins played and played.  Football was watched.  More cake and presents were had.  And my parents hung out to chat for a while after everyone else left, which was also really nice.  I miss time to just talk like that with them.

By the time they left, though, I was definitely feeling pretty crummy, so we didn’t make it to small group at church. We just did a family night and got to bed semi-close to bedtime.  And just like that, the birthday weekend was over.

And we had survived.  But really, we did more than that.  On Friday, I decided that I wanted to avoid auto-mode, that person I become when it’s about getting something done and not about the people I bowl over to get there.  And for once, it actually worked.  Okay, there was about a half-hour on Sunday afternoon when auto-mode kicked in.  But I really wanted to actually BE there for Megan’s parties and not just get through them.  I prayed to that end.  I really tried to keep my OCD in check and let things roll as they went.  I just knew that I didn’t want to look back on Monday evening, wishing I had done more than survive.

And now that it’s Monday night, I think I accomplished that goal.  The weekend was good.  Tiring, but good.  Yes, we survived it.  But we also lived it.  And that is good, too. 

So, one final time, happy birthday to my Megan! Can’t wait for next year!