eighteen

Fifth child, third daughter turned eighteen Sunday, New Year’s Day.

She’s not crazy about her birthday, I think she thinks it’s kind of not special, especially after all the holiday hustle. One year- she and I will never forget it- completely fried, I asked her if it was okay if her cake didn’t have frosting, never again.

So now I pace myself, and make sure there’s enough juice to celebrate properly. Birthday’s around here are most often a family dinner, at home. Cooked up a bunch of batches of Bolognese, a big caesar salad, and baked off two cheesecakes, each in a large tart pan as the springform pans went somehow missing, and cooled them off quickly outside.

She’s worn the same paper crown for five years now, kind of like a good outfit, when it works simply hit replay. We picked that up in Northern CA at a little french gift shop while in wine country.

Today, three days into the new year, the house is completely picked up and cleared out. We’re ready for all the freshness each day brings with it.

Happy birthday, Lizzie. We love you more than you’ll ever know.