Lily Turns 4: A Celebration in the Midst of Waiting
The Countdown to 4
It feels impossible that Lily is about to turn four. Four years of laughter, tantrums, bedtime stories, sticky fingers, and hugs. Four years of watching her grow from a tiny baby into a little girl with opinions, humor, and a sassy streak that makes me smile even when it tests my patience.
This birthday feels especially significant. Not just because she’s turning four but because of everything swirling around us right now. I’m waiting for cancer test results again, and that waiting is heavy. It’s the ashes in the air. Reminding me of fragility, of uncertainty. But then there’s Lily, her birthday, her joy, her tiara with the glittering “4” on it. She is the wildflower pushing through the cracks, reminding me that life insists on blooming even in the shadow of fear.
SuperKitties to the Rescue
The invitations have gone out, and the theme is set: SuperKitties. Lily is obsessed, and I couldn’t resist leaning into her excitement. I managed to find enough themed accessories like plates, napkins, cake topper, and backdrop to make the party feel magical. To balance the budget, I paired them with simple supplies: pink forks and tablecloths, and pink and purple streamers.
The tiara with the “4” and the “Birthday Girl” sash are tucked away, waiting for the big day. She caught a glimpse of the tiara on my dresser where I thought she could not see it before I got it put away, and from that I know she will be ecstatic to wear it.
A Milestone for Me Too
For the past couple of years, I’ve asked the grandparents to host the kid’s birthday parties. It was easier for me—less cleanup, less stress, less chaos in our already chaotic house. But this year feels different. This year, I think I can manage.
It’s not just about cleaning up before and after. It’s about reclaiming the space, saying: this is our home, this is our celebration, this is where Lily’s fourth birthday belongs. Hosting at home feels like a milestone for me too, a quiet victory in the midst of waiting.
I can already imagine the scene: the smell of chocolate cupcakes drifting through the kitchen, frosting smudged across Oak’s and Ash’s noses as they sneak tastes before the candles are lit. The chill of the fall air rushing in as guests arrive, coats draped over chairs, laughter warming the living room.
The Gift
I wanted Lily’s gift to be something special, something that felt like it matched her age and her growing independence. A friend with same-aged children recommended to me the Toniebox, a simple, screen‑free audio device that she can control herself. Durable enough to withstand her brothers, intuitive enough for her little hands, and filled with stories and songs that will spark her imagination.
I love the idea of her having something that belongs to her, something she can use without needing me to hover. It’s a small step toward independence, a way of saying: you are growing, you are capable, you are ready for more.
Love Filling the House
So much of our family is coming into town for the party. The thought of our house filled with voices, laughter, and the chaos of cousins makes me smile. It’s going to be loud, messy, and wonderful.
I picture cousins tumbling into the living room, streamers swaying overhead, and the clink of forks against plates. The sweet smell of chocolate frosting lingers in the air, and Lily’s giggles rise above it all as she proudly adjusts her tiara. And because I don’t want to miss being in the memories myself, I always hand my phone to my brother. He’ll capture me helping Lily open her presents, leaning in close as she tears the wrapping paper and discovers her Toniebox. Later, he’ll snap the moment when I pose with her by her cake, tiara sparkling, sash draped proudly across her shoulders. And of course, we’ll gather Oak and Ash at the table for one shot of all three siblings together, frosting on noses, streamers overhead, the kind of photo that be my new wallpaper for months.
School Celebration
Her birthday isn’t just about the family party. I’ve ordered cupcakes and favors for her to bring to school so her classmates can celebrate her too. I want her to feel special in every space she inhabits, to know that her birthday is not just a family event but a community one. Her teacher let me know they would announce Lily’s birthday on the morning announcements, and she would get a book and a small token from the front office. She will pass out the favor bags to her friends after the cupcake celebration. I plan to take her to school that day so I can have breakfast with her in the cafeteria.
The Emotional Undercurrent
It would be dishonest to write about Lily’s birthday without acknowledging the shadow that lingers. I am still waiting for cancer test results again, and that waiting is heavy. It’s the ashes that settle quietly, reminding me of fragility, of uncertainty.
But birthdays are wildflowers. They bloom regardless of the ashes. They insist on joy, on celebration, on laughter. Lily’s birthday is a reminder that life doesn’t pause for fear. It keeps moving, keeps blooming, keeps demanding that we show up for the moments that matter.
Looking Ahead
Lily’s birthday is just the beginning. Thanksgiving is around the corner, with family filling the house and traditions grounding us in gratitude. After that, it’s time to decorate the Christmas tree with my neighbor, stringing lights and hanging ornaments as the season shifts. Then it will be time for the boys’ birthday, and the calendar will keep moving forward, carrying us through milestones and memories.
One Day, One Celebration, One Wildflower at a Time
Lily’s fourth birthday is more than a party. It’s a declaration of joy in the midst of uncertainty.
It’s also me, in the frame this time, helping her open gifts, smiling beside her cake, standing with Oak and Ash as they lean in for one messy, perfect photo.
It’s a reminder that even when ashes linger, wildflowers bloom.
I want Lily to feel special, celebrated, and loved. I want her to remember her birthday as a day of laughter, of family, of joy. And I want to remember it too. As a day when fear didn’t win, when love filled the house, when life insisted on blooming.
Because that’s what birthdays are. They are wildflowers in the ashes, reminders that joy is possible, that love is present, that life is worth celebrating. One messy, beautiful day at a time.