Ain’t even glittering 

When she was 1-I made invitations jauntily tied with little bows, handmade SCP monogram stickers for the mason jars filled with candy and handmade monogram cupcake stickers. A-door-a-bull.

She had a handmade shirt that matched her cupcakes. Her hat was custom made. It was a pink explosion of happiness.

2. She cried with her grandpa holding her because we were singing happy birthday. Even the cut strawberries didn’t make it better. 

Thanks to 2 by 3 we discovered she didn’t really love parties. Duh. So that year we didn’t even attempt a part. Instead,  I made 30 functioning pinwheels from scrapbook paper to too her school cupcakes. Each was different. No 2 alike. I am pretty sure I still don’t have fingerprints due to the 6 degree burns I sufferered thanks to the massive amounts of hot  glue that this particular project took. Ah-door-Ahhh-bull but STUPID. Seriously. What the hell was the point of that craft idiocy??? The birthday treat of a build-a-bear ended in tragedy when it was closed for renovations. Oops. Ringling-brothers came to our rescue. 

4–still in the middle of my work nightmare I gave myself an out and bought cupcakes. The guilt led me to party city where I allowed the 4 year old to pick out whatever she wanted to  go on top. 4 year olds aren’t known for their restraint. $50 later…(too bad I didn’t know we weren’t a dual income family at the time) she got everything she wanted and I only had to figure out how to her all the…pretty decorations to stay on the cupcakes. We didn’t even attempt a party and instead sprited her away for a Chattanooga, tn adventure. Really too bad I didn’t know we weren’t a dual income family at the time. But I digress. 

It is with a heavy heart and a grateful wallet that I admit that this year I didn’t even pretend to kid myself that I was capable of any sort of creating. I borrowed a Sam’s card and straight up ordered this years delicacies using my borrowed name. (I felt like a teen practicing her name before using her sisters ID.) luckily my Daughter is shy so she didn’t scream,”Dat not your name,” when the clerked thanked Ms. Garrett for her order. 

For $14.95 I’ve got 30 iced cupcakes with a Frozen ring plopped right smack-dab-in-the-middle.  Oh yeah! 

My daughter will turn 5 without me turning on the glue gun or even a single shake of my glitter. I don’t know whether to congratulate myself for my restraint or berrate myself for letting the year of brutal disappointments claim another victim. Knowing me-I’ll do a little of both. 


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