The Birthday Bash

Almost a week later, I have cleaned the cake frosting off the baby monitor, thrown away the wrapping paper (though the toys are still all over), organized the cards and finally sorted through all the pictures I took of the big day. It was more than I could have ever hoped for in a birthday party and faux baptism (which I've taken to calling a blessing because it makes my mom happier).

Last Sunday, the weather was perfect and we set up for the event by dragging all of the bicycles from our garage and getting them spiffied up for the bike parade. Clementine, whose obsession with bicycles grows stronger every day (when we get home at night she runs over the garage, bangs on the door and says "bi-bi-bi"), was thrilled to see some of her friends even brought their own bikes. She was checking them all out before we took off:

People rode tall bikes and long bikes, folding bikes, Taxi bikes, Stingrays, trikes and all sorts of different contraptions. Even my mom rode one, ever in the spirit (maybe because her new boyfriend was along?):

After our parade, Clementine donned her Tiger hat, which is a Chinese folkloric tradition--apparently babies wear this hat on their one year birthday to catch all the heavenly goodness falling from the sky between the tiger's ears. Thankfully it had a tie, so it stayed on her head for the duration of the faux baptism ceremony despite her best efforts to remove it. Clementine, you want that heavenly goodness, don't you? Good. Put it on.

I knew I wanted to do some sort of blessing for our girl because, although we have no intention of baptising her, I do want to provide some sort of foundation for spirituality and divinity, for asking questions and believing in things. I asked guests to being a small symbol of a wish they have for her future, and I also asked them to write in a little book what they might be willing to teach her as she grows older. I started the ceremony by reading Sylvia Plath's "Morning Song," a poem I read again and again when I came home from the hospital with C., and I somehow managed NOT to cry, not even when I read the last line, which always gets me. On cue, Clementine started to sing a little as I read about her clear vowels. It was very sweet.

Then we went around the circle and presented her with our symbols. I gave her an unpolished Petosky stone so she would always remember where she came from, what her earliest adventures were and to look for beauty everywhere, even in an unpolished stone. He dad gave her a tiny old wrench, which she popped into her mouth right away, so she would always be able to solve her problems. She got a Buddy Christ from my sister and her family, a Bible from my mom, a Tiffany luggage tag from Aunt K., a rock in the shape of a C and some dream coins from the Lamberti's, flowers, a Virgin Mary nightlight, some funny glasses and a picture from her boyfriend Hudson, and she got inspirational books, a collage, poems, a special chair for contemplating, lovely little toys, some poems and stories, a promise for fishing lessons from Uncle Dizzle and lots of wonderful goodies I'm sure I'm forgetting. Even her Nonny and Grandpa sent something from Arizona to wish her good reading. After the presentation, I read Margaret Atwood's "You Begin," another great poem, and our Clementine was blessed, baptised, welcomed and ready for cake.

She wasn't sure what to make of the cake at first, but she took to it pretty quickly and managed to get frosting EVERYWHERE.

I know that's part of the fun, but she's not real fond of being cleaned up, so her head was all sticky for the rest of the party until the sugar rush faded and left her crazy tired, the kind that makes it seems like she's having more fun than she's ever had before, but then in the blink of an eye is crying and screaming and just so ready for bed, guests be damned.

My family took off after the party came to an end, which meant we three had Labor Day to spend together not doing much. You would think I could have sorted pictures then, but there were SO many. Click on any below to go see the overindulgance than is a first-time mom with a digital camera.