Birthday Blog: Live Updates

It’s today. Pipey’s big day. I know you’ve been anxiously awaiting the 5th birthday as much as we have. It’s here! Let’s celebrate. I’ll be updating this blog throughout the day with piperisms. Be sure to tune it for the funnies!

8:12 a.m. Piper runs into our room to cuddle. She likes to wake up smooth.

8:22 a.m. “Piper, it’s your birthday!” I say.

“It is?” she asks.

“Yes! Happy birthday, baby!”

“Really? Today?”

“Yep. You’re five. Happy birthday!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I gave birth to you 5 years ago. I remember.”

“Mom, it’s my birthday. Stop being gross.”

“Happy birthday, Piper!”

“Wow,” Piper says. “I’ve been waiting so long to be 5 and a half!”

8:52 a.m. Piper orders her breakfast in bed. She invites Sissy, too. And Cousin Tay. What did she order? Oatmeal. With rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips.

9:23 a.m. Still eating. Piper is now sporting a chocolate mustache. She says she’s going to wear it all day so she can snack whenever she wants. “You know why I’m so cute?” Piper asks. “If I wasn’t so cute, I’d get in a lot more trouble.”

10:08 a.m. Our neighbors will love us. Piper gets a new drum set:

12:15 p.m. Sunflowers for the Birthday Girl!

1:17 p.m. More drumming. More bongos. More dancing. More singing.

2:03 p.m. Starting to regret the drum set present. What was I thinking?

2:41 p.m. Mandatory nap time. Mine, anyway. Piper asks, “Can I put on a concert while you nap? I’ll be quiet. Promise!”

3:13 p.m. There is a band in our basement. They must have a big show coming up, thus the constant rehearsing.

3:47 p.m. “Mom, can we have basagna for dinner and then go out for frozen yogurt?” Absolutely. I’ll take sweating in a hot kitchen over steaming pots if I’m rewarded by a trip to the mall. They don’t have drum sets there, right?

5:15 p.m. Basagna baking. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Lady Gaga solo on the drums. Just sayin’.

5:35 p.m. At dinner Piper complains, “I didn’t even get to name myself!”

“What should we have named you?” Dad asks.

“Stella,” Piper says. Of course.

6:32 p.m. Off to Build-A-Bear because a birthday girl has just got to build a bear.

8:32 p.m. Introducing the newest member of our stuffed menagerie: Stella.

Happy Fake Birthday to You

We celebrated Piper’s fake birthday today. What’s a fake birthday? It happens when you’re halfway across the country with family that you won’t see on your real birthday so we throw a fake birthday party. There’s cake and candles and presents.

We pretend well. Piper told every single person we saw today that it was her fake birthday. Checkout clerks were impressed. Strangers on the street wished her a happy day. Our waitress would have sang if we hadn’t stopped her.

The best part of your fake birthday is our real birthday tradition, which we borrowed from Uncle Pete’s family. On your birthday (in addition to the breakfast in bed), we also give you a dollar and tell you our favorite thing about you.

So, Happy Fake Birthday, P. Here goes:

What’s your favorite thing about Piper?


Piper wants a teddy bear. Not just any teddy bear will do. It has to be a Build-A-Bear and it has to grow from birth. Piper’s birthday is coming up.  A teddy bear is entirely possible, but I fear she has something more complicated in mind.

“My bear is being born right now,” she whispered to me at nap time. “He’s three minutes old.”

“Really?  How do you know?”

Piper rolls her eyes at my question. “I’m his mother. His Build-A-Bear mother. I know.”

“So your Build-A-Bear is growing right now?” I’m actually trying to follow her logic. There may be a real question in there somewhere that I need to address.

“Only if I buy him will he actually be built and grown. It’s like a daughter. Like you grew me. With a computer.”

“I didn’t pick you out on a computer, P. I grew you in my body,” I explain.

“Right. But you chose me. I remember.”

“You remember?”

“Yes. I was on the shelf waiting to be born. Then you came in and chose me. It was exactly like at Build-A-Bear.”

Hmm. I remember it a bit differently, but I’m pretty sure arguing will be futile.

Double Digits or Breakfast in Bed Update

I apologize for leaving you, dear reader, with quite the cliffhanger in Breakfast in Bed. You’ve spent the day wondering “Did Sissy invite the Piper to partake of her birthday breakfast? Did she forgive Piper’s snotty ways?”  Of course she did.  She even awarded Piper two mini muffins for good behavior.

It was a delicious way to start the Sissy celebration.  There was cuddling. There were stories from birthdays past. Then we each told Sissy our favorite thing about her and gave her a dollar (a weird and welcome family tradition).

The yummyness continued with cupcake decor.

And we watched home movies starring Sissy as a baby. Piper was mesmerized. How could her heroine have ever been so tiny and full of drool? There’s hope yet.

Then on to the good stuff: gifts.  A Piper isn’t known for keeping secrets. She told Sissy about her gift five minutes after we bought it, and she reminded her every day leading up to the birthday. “Guess what I got you!” Piper said, but there really wasn’t much to guess about. Still, Sissy played along.  She put on her best look of surprise. “Yes! I was hoping for some duct tape!”

“What’s your first project, Sissy?” Piper asked.

Sissy unrolled a reel of neon yellow tape. “I know just what to do,” Sissy said. “Let’s tape your mouth shut!”

Breakfast in Bed

We’re preparing for Sissy’s birthday soon.  Double digits.  That’s big.

On your birthday in our house you get breakfast in bed.  You place your order like room service by writing it up the night before and leaving it outside your door. Then your family gets up early to make you the perfect breakfast on a tray and delivers it while you lounge around in your pajamas.  It’s as awesome as it sounds.

Last year Sissy invited Piper to get in bed with her and nibble off the edges of her tray. It didn’t go so well.  This morning on the way to church they were debating whether Piper would be invited back for breakfast in bed when the birthday morning arrives.

“I don’t know, P,” Sissy said. “Don’t you remember what happened last year?”

“It was awesome?” Piper asked.

“Not exactly. You spilled my juice and sneezed all over my muffins.”

“Seriously? Why are you still talking about that? Just let it go, Sissy.”

I can’t say yet whether another birthday breakfast in bed will be extended to the Piper.  If she’s that lucky, I’ll have the tissues ready.

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