Celebrating Finley Grace.

We threw Theresa a little shower the other night. Nothing big and fancy -- no cute little sandwiches or exploding diaper games or polite conversation -- after all, those are the types of showers you reserve for regular, beautiful, according-to-plan, 9-month-long sort of pregnancy.

And if you are familiar with Finley's story at all, you know this has been no ordinary pregnancy. It has been a four+ year long, brutiful, roller coaster sort of experience. The good news: it is coming to an end very soon. Steve and Theresa received their second travel call this week (!!!), and they will be traveling back to South Korea to pick up Finley Grace at the end of June. Gotcha Day is June 25, and their plane will touch down back home on July 3!

In light of their adoption story, we decided a slightly non-traditional gathering featuring a big SURPRISE!, appetizers, martinis, and lots of girly (toddler) goods might be more fitting.

The surprise went off without a hitch. Theresa seemed a little shocked that she had no idea, until I kindly reminded her it's not hard to pull one over on her jet-lagged, Traumatic Adoption Disorder-ed self these days.

Theresa opened each girly gift with a good mix of terror and excitement, slight confusion and joy, shock and awe. One little girl coming soon to a very boy-filled home near you! Theresa is the last of this group of friends to have a baby girl, so we all had fun picking out those must-haves (and the frivolous stuff too!)

And in traditional girls' night style, we solved a few of life's pressing issues, such as which side of your face is your "good" side. (Real Simple says to cover half you face, look in the mirror, and then cover the other side. Whichever side has more upturned features is your "good" side, and thus, the side you want to angle towards the camera. You're welcome.)

One of the last items on the adoption check-list is now complete. Celebrating Finley Grace. Check, check. We are so excited to meet you, Finley Girl! Come home soon!

Belated is the New Black.

For 33 years, since the day I was born, my birthday has been celebrated in the warm summer month of August.

This past August, we got so busy living life to the fullest that my birthday celebrating took a back burner to our North woods exploring, #CottageWeek relaxing, and Denver discovering.

And while I did receive a singing pirate 'stache card (every girl's dream), a super sweet new camera strap (thanks, T), a pizza night with 14 of my favorite people (big and little), the distinction of celebrating my birthday week and cottage week simultaneously, and a Feel-the-Zeel sort of girls' night...

I kind of missed out on birthday cake and sweet cards with tiny signatures scrawled inside and -- the one thing I ask for on my birthday without fail -- a picture with my precious little kiddos.

Now my friends and family know that I take my birthday very seriously. I have been quoted as saying, "If you don't celebrate you, ain't nobody going to celebrate you." 

And I mean it. I love my birthday.

But really, at 33, I am adult -- like really, really an adult -- so I put on my big girl panties and moved on.

Imagine then my surprise to return home from taking the kids for hair cuts on Saturday morning and told to wait in the chilly fall air ...just for a second.

I waited... and when I was allowed in, I was handed my first clue. {Matt's kind of a legend around here with his scavenger hunt designs.}

It led me up to Mady's room. Which happened to be dark. And quiet. With nary a toddler in sight.

Until suddenly the closet door flings open, and the cutest 2 1/2 year old you've ever seen, yells "SURPRISE!" and hands me my first gift: a card featuring a dog sporting pigtails and braces. A card only a toddler would pick and exactly what this mama would have wished for.

Next we went to Dylan's room... and out of his closet pops my first baby - my deep thinking, hard working, almost eight year old boy with a beautiful bouquet of fall flowers.

Our last stop was Ella's room. By now I know to go straight to the closet, and when I open it, I find my sweet, pretty, full-of-life girl holding a plate of fluffy, shaken-by-her-giggles cupcakes from one of the best bakeries in town.

We laughed and laughed from one room to the next. We jumped up and down.
I was surprised, really, truly surprised. The kids were delighted. I was delighted. We reveled in the silliness of it all.

I felt loved. I am loved.

So that's the story of how I found myself eating birthday cupcakes on a cold October Saturday (before lunch, no less), seven weeks after my birthday.

That's the tale of the time I was blindsided by belated birthday love.

And that's how I got my picture this year... un-showered and in my best errand running clothes... but I stayed in the picture.

After we finished wiping the frosting from our lips, we went and picked out pumpkins. (Because that's what you do in October.)

In the end, a birthday is just a day. And whether it's August or October, it doesn't really matter... the joy is in the celebration.