We made a cake yesterday. For no reason. It wasn’t a boxed cake, either. It was a southern butter cake and it was delicious.
We needed to celebrate, because sometimes life gets away from us and we’re lost in drop offs and pick ups and naps and lunches and “clean this up”‘s and “just please quit!”‘s. We forget to celebrate.
And we have so much to celebrate.
Things like beautiful music
and adorable vintage dresses.
Saturday mornings with our favorite people
and almost-8-year-olds who still think it’s necessary to get fancy for birthday parties.
Babies who do yoga
and tiny kittens who look like elves.
Early morning light
and 2 year olds who have stories to tell.
I need to remind myself to celebrate moments like this
where being together and playing with tiny plastic dogs is exciting and fun and hilarious and perfect.
To celebrate long and thick eyelashes
and the sweet boys they come with.
Itty bitty toddler toes
…and crispy toast.
I forget sometimes.
I forget that celebrating these every single day moments is as important as the once-a-year birthdays and anniversaries.
It’s okay to celebrate good hair days.
[yep, i did the self portrait…i have no pride]
Baby-holding fails are as wonderful as perfect cuddles and make me smile twice as big.
Celebrating wedding prep for a sweet friend can be as great as celebrating the wedding itself. I think, at least.
Finding chicken eggs and then seeing the smiles on the kids’ faces when I show them — every. single. day. That is something to celebrate.
A grande non-fat white mocha to start my Monday.
I celebrate that I was raised by parents who taught me that everyone has gifts, everyone has different abilities and that when I buy a trendy wooden sign with a popular quote on it like this…
…I actually believe in it.
And I’m feeling lucky because
My happily ever after is right now.