Birthday Eyes

It's all in his eyes. Big. Beautiful. And sometimes the only clue I have into his little heart. He tries to mask his feelings - but those pesky eyes, they never lie. Not to me. When he's happy they sparkle, even when he hides his smile. When he's sad they droop, even when he holds his tears. When he's sick they're flat, even when he's bouncing. They squint when he's confused, open bright when he's excited, dart when he knows he's in trouble. When they catch the light just right they pierce my heart and my face melts into that puppy dog gaze as a reaction to the paradoxical pain that comes from beauty and love. He might just kill me with those eyes.


He seems sure that he turned five last week, but does he look five to you? Because I'm pretty sure someone snuck a couple of years in there while I wasn't looking. We had to be a bit creative with his birthday pictures because he seems to think that shards of glass will shoot out of my camera lens if he glances at it. I decided not to torture him on his big day, so I left my camera home. His birthday was complete with food, friends, fun ... and some of the brightest eyes I've seen on him for a while. Thank you to his best friend, Parker, an awesome sticker, and the museum of life and science for entertaining my child and making him feel like I'm the best mom ever. I'm also the best mom ever because I let Chick-Fil-A's play place take the lunch hour away from us (read: no mess for me to clean up), then I let them trade in their happy meal toys for ice cream (read: no cluttery toy collection to worry about), and we brought free balloons home (okay, this was pretty awesome of me because I hate balloons. Really), where I let them play away the afternoon in front of Mario (read: where I put my feet up and took a nap). I'm getting the hang of this mothering gig.


He felt like a king when the friends came over and he pulled out his new Star Wars encyclopedia. He can't even read, yet he pours over this book every night before going to sleep. The boys in the house were magnetized to it. These four specifically sat here for over half an hour turning the pages, gasping, cheering, and booing at all the pictures.


Then we pulled out the cake... I really outdid myself on this cake *squirm*. Ice cream, frozen in three cheesecake pans, plopped on top of each other, with star wars characters plunked on top. You know what? It tasted awesome. And the kids kept asking for more.

I learned a little something - the amount of time and preparation you put into your child's birthday really is no indication of how much you love them. And, it's not really an indication of how much fun they're going to have, either. Carson's birthday happened to fall in a season where I could give very little of myself into making it special for him. There was no formal party, no special outing... there wasn't even Daddy except for a few minutes through the computer screen. But it was full of his favorite day-to-day things, packed to the brim with hugs and kisses, and at the end of the night when I asked him if he'd had a good day, he looked up at me with those eyes - so big... so beautiful - and I saw my very favorite look flash through them. That look that comes one tiny second before he says my four favorite words,

"I love you, Mom."