As I mentioned in yesterday’s yarn along post, Dan and I celebrated our anniversary on Tuesday. Celebrate might be a bit generous as the day did not go quite as peacefully as we’d have hoped.

The temperature dropped drastically, the kids were too cold to play outside, rain threatened and then began falling. A runny nose appeared, a sweet one was unhappy, the new school year loomed (along with the removal of the kids’ new neighbourhood friends). The bathroom was muddy, the living room was growing clutter, I’d been at the kitchen with perhaps too much baking gusto, the basement was (erm, is) the catch-all of everything that had no other place.

Kids were grumpy, parents were grumpy. One child proclaimed from a time-out that, “Anniversaries are the worst days ever. They ruin everything!” This led to parental sighs with eyes to the heavens and just a little incredulity that somehow we were to blame.

By the late end of the evening, kids asleep, peach pie and ice cream to the rescue, Dan and I let our muscles relax, our headaches melt away and the stress dissolve. We headed to bed and soon forgot the difficulties of the day in sleep.

This may sound like a sob story. It’s not. I’m merely setting the stage for the best anniversary gift ever.

This morning the kids were anxious for us to take our time coming downstairs. We lingered over baby snuggles and showers until we were invited to the main level.

I couldn’t believe what they had prepared for us.

There was a gift awaiting us on the couch with cards beside them. There were anniversary posters on the walls. The dishwasher had been unloaded. The table was spread with a beautiful breakfast.

I was speechless.

The story was that since our anniversary hadn’t been the greatest they were going to give us a re-do. On top of that we were chastised for not warning beforehand of our anniversary so they would have had time to plan something.

The main collaborators.

It was perfect and wonderful. We are proud parents. Incredibly blessed. And living a life that it is so so full.

Thanks for all the anniversary wishes yesterday – we celebrated with them today.

On her birthday, before anyone had given her well wishes, Sarah sat straight up in our bed (her most favourite sleeping spot these days) and announced “4!”. We hadn’t built it up or given her a warning about the day because we knew we were going to celebrate a day late due to Dan’s work and my canning schedule (which I really must update you on). I was surprised then by this announcement.

Sarah has always marched to the beat of her own drum. She has set the timeline for each and every milestone – standing, walking, talking – she’s taken each at her own pace. And so I say she’s has stayed our baby just a little longer because she has been in no rush to grow up. And so sometimes we forget just how much she is growing up.

And so these pictures from her birthday must be shared as proof to myself that these moments are fleeting and oh so cherishable.

Awaiting the birthday breakfast by Daddy.

Candles with breakfast are a must.

So worth the wait…Daddy is good to us.

Followed by a rainy trip to the zoo.

Feeding duckies – Sarah’s favourite.

Despite how many times she’d already seen her birthday sweater blocking she was still full of excitement over it (be still my beating heart).

No, she’s not disappointed that her sweater is two sizes too big. It’s her favourite silly game – “Sad face…”

“…Happy face!”

You’re not noticing all the clutter in background around that happy girl are you? Of course not.

She also had some special gifts to open from her sweet, sweet siblings.

Daddy lights the candles on the yellow girl’s yellow cake.

Turning four is a beautiful thing. Bittersweet for a mama’s heart perhaps, but so much fun.

Dear Sweet One,

We are celebrating your part in our family for four years now. Four years that feel like a heartbeat and yet like so much more. It seems you were never not here spreading your very special sort of love and yet I can remember so acutely your first moments. I remember that long summer of wondering just how overdue a baby could be. I remember knowing you were a little girl whose name would be Sarah in those last moments of waiting. I remember those first moments of holding you in my arms amidst cries of joy.

And since that moment you’ve been such a integral part of our family. While you’ve seemed to stay our little girl for a little longer than your siblings, suddenly you are growing and changing before our very eyes. You are full of fire (which we realize more and more is one of your special gifts). You have creativity and imagination like I’ve never seen in a child. You are full of affection and love. You see things where many of us are blind.

You challenge us in some of your fierier moments, you feed our hearts with your sweet words, you unite us with your joy for life.

We love you more and more with each passing day and cherish every moment with you.

Much love to you, our yellow girl.

Happy 4th Birthday!

A little late publishing these sentiments but I’m finally getting these thoughts written which have been on my mind so much these last few days.

Although I fell in love with you more than eight years ago, it was eight years ago that I first held you in my arms. Eight years ago that I became a mother and you made that role easy to embrace. Those eight years have passed in a heartbeat but I remember so clearly those first moments, minutes and days.

And as I feel this younger sibling of yours awaiting his or her moment to be held, I reflect often on those moments eight years ago. I marvel at how our family has grown, how these years have past, how we’ve survived the moments of joy and the moments of sorrow that have accompanied them.

As I’ve watched you grow over these eight years, I feel as though you’ve watched me grow as well. Wisdom, maturity, humility and faith are areas we’ve both grown in over these years. You’ve taught me at least as often as I’ve taught you. You’ve challenged me, stretched me and pushed me to better, for which I’ll always be grateful.

The wisdom and knowledge that you have at eight never ceases to astound me. The faith and trust that are so naturally woven into your choices encourage me endlessly. Your beauty and confidence fill me with courage.

You are determined, strong, generous and kind. You give gifts from your heart without fear or hesitation. You are a natural leader. You dream in colour and love to laugh.

I’m so thankful for these eight years. Thankful you have shared so much of yourself, thankful you have made a mother of me, thankful you have brought so much richness to this family of ours.

Much joy, discovery and love to you, Elizabeth, as you begin your ninth year. We look forward to all it holds.