Honey

If this were any normal day, I'd likely babble on and tell you about this fabulous yarn. How I bought the rare 'rose grey' alpaca fleece from a farmer two years ago and hoarded it like a jewel until I finally forced hubster to card it for me with a little merino and a whole lotta silver angelina. I'd tell you all about how he daringly looked at me and asked, "that's it, just grey?" as if I don't know what I'm doing. I'd work myself into a froth over how surprised he seemed when the result, a silvery, shimmery, sensual delight unfolded from my skein winder (huh! you see the oppressive doubt I have to produce under?). But this is not that sort of day. It's a real special day, Happy 15th birthday, Thing 1!

Remember when it was just you and me? From the start, I knew we'd get along just fine. Of course, there was that week before you were born - when I was already starting labor and you decided to keep turning into a breech position just to keep us on our toes - that should have given me greater insight into the complex creature that I was about to know and love. When we finally had to have your forcefully turned (thanks so much, I sooo enjoyed having someone dig their fingers into my belly and twist my insides all around), though, you stayed right put and labor commenced to begin in earnest - on April Fool's Day. Being that I was hoping to be a perfect mother and all, I did what any compassionate human being would do and crossed my legs until the next day. From then on, we were inseparable. You had my undivided attention. Hmmm, I wonder if this had anything to do with you being able to recite Dr. Seuss books by the time you were 2?

Then, you turned 4 and you got a brother. I know...he cried....alot. And that stole some of our reading/playing time. I remember when I giggled that Santa had brought you a bouncy horse AND a brother and you asked if maybe he didn't want the brother back. But that was brief and once you acclimated to being big sister, you took it on like a pro. You even forgave him (until about five years later when you'd apparently had enough and just snapped and insisted that he say your 'real name' over and over while you sat on him) for mistaking your name and calling you 'haundee' for years because I seemed to call you 'honey' more than Emma.

The next few years whizzed by and you turned 8 and got, yes, ANOTHER BROTHER! Still, you were my princess as my feeble attempt at making your 'fairy princess' Halloween costume proves. I cannot thank you enough for the spectacular journey we've shared so far. I didn't turn out to be the perfect mom I'd imagined, but you've always made me feel proud to be the mother that I am.

So, when I asked what you wanted for your birthday and you shrugged your shoulders and said, 'maybe go to the movies, or some yarn...' and went on to fill my ears with the sound of music I never thought I'd hear, I was experiencing a deep level of ecstasy. It went something like, 'I'd like to try to make a lace shawl so maybe some lace yarn or some fiber since I'm spinning so much on my spindle, oh, and I need a set of size 3 dpns'. I don't quite remember the rest because I was dizzy with the fumes of maternal euphoria. I already had this little surprise in the works. Since you love everything 'Lord of the Rings' and since the first time I saw you standing in front of the mirror mimicking the elvish movements of Arwen, you've pretty much held a fervent passion for anything elf-like. So, I spun this Gotland wool with some sparkly stuff and gathered some peach quartz and unakite and sent it to Greenfingers with many bribes and she created this stunning work of art for you - a gift from both of us - holding your hand a little (though you stopped liking that 12 or more years ago) while you walk through the gate of your womanhood.

I remembered how much you like the Calorimetry I made you for X-mas and also that you squealed when you saw the yellow rose yarn I made. So, a headband and some silk + said rose yarn mitts are in the tote as well. Threre's also some gemstones for your silk jewelry and stitch markers that you do such a beautiful job with.

Now, if you'd asked for a shopping spree or some other extravagance, I would have had to have some restraint. That's why we get along so well, though, I suspect. Not only do we like the same kinds of things but your present was like a present to me because when your mom's a fiber pusher - the world of fiber gifts to daughters holds no bounds. It was great fun dressing up as a bandit and robbing the store for you. I scored you two skeins of your favorite colorway in lace, a whole bunch of silk roving, some more gotland, some misc. spinning batts, the needles, and whatever else I could stuff in the tote before your father cut me off. Oh, and painting set and the silk dress I'm still sewing for you. All that and I'm off to bake you the cake you picked out. I forgive you for liking your father's preference of cake (spice with cream cheese frosting) more than mine (what's wrong with good ole death by chocolate?) but I forbid you to follow his advice/standard in color selection or fashion sense.

Happy Birthday, Honey!