The Fourth and a Fifth

There’s been a frenzy of activity around these parts over the past week.

Not only did we haul out our basket of this:

and hang this:

and stick up some of these:

and {awkwardly} eat LOTS of these:

while eagerly awaiting the arrival of cousins and aunts and Yiayias and Grampies who journeyed from Boston for the week:

but I’ve been sucked into reading another one of these:

and we’ve also been painting these:

and braiding this:

gluing a few of these:

and I hung 18 of these:

while trying to recreate this:

all the while praying sincere, deep, incredibly heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving for this:

For last week she turned FIVE.

The girl that wasn’t supposed to live. Or dance. Or sing.

Today she told me she never wanted to leave our home, she wanted to live here forever.

She’s been watching a little too much Rapunzel.

And of course, I want to keep her here forever. With me. Embraced.

But five means she’s getting older. Finding her voice. Maybe not gaining weight (drat!) but growing for sure.

I’m not gonna lie. These have been the longest five years of my life. When people say it goes quickly, often they don’t have a child with special needs. Or perhaps they do, but it all clouds together after awhile in a blur of sleep deprivation and worry.

But we’re so incredibly grateful for every heartbreaking, nerve wracking, joy inducing, painful, glowing, sad-and-happy-tearful, blue eyed melting, snuggly moment and would live each and every second of it again if it would turn out very the same way. With her in our lives.

Hope everyone had a wonderful Fourth, from my little firecracker family to yours.