Exactly seventeen years ago today, I was born. My parents had their first girl. My brother was a brother for the first time, and more happy to get a biscuit at the hospital than a sister. (It's the truth. There's photo-proof.) I was part of an average-sized family (haha.) Look, seriously, AREN'T I the cutest midget? Squished nose, red face, sweaty hair, empty brain and everything. (And my Winnie-the-Pooh pyjamas are cuuuute. They were really comfortable, although it did itch. But I didn't complain. I've always been a good girl.)
I celebrated my birthday with my brother. Photo's have me nibbling on a lego-man; probably my way of showing appreciation for my present.
I think I got a doll for this birthday. Lisa, her name was. I had a chocolate cake with edible paper on it. Paper with a picture of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet having a birthday party as well (you know, I was nice enough to let people celebrate Winnie's birthday as well.) I ate the paper. I was ADORABLE beyond measure on my second birthday. Where did my cuteness fly to? You need a picture, so voilà.
On my third birthday, I had just recovered from some sickness, so my cake was a simple white one with some chocolate over it. But duh, there was chocolate, so happy was the day. I wore a pink cardigan, a yellow party-cone-hat (which somehow really suited me at the time) and I smiled for the camera. (The next picture in this post will be one of my third birthday. And the one after that of my forth birthday. By the way.)
This is probably the first birthday I can remember without digging into old pictures. I ate chips and beans and salad and sausage, wore a huge pink paper crown (#embarrassing) and got necklaces. By this time, by the way, I had two younger siblings. Birthdays were getting noisier.
Another year, another chocolate cake. I have such a history of chocolate cake.
On my sixth birthday we had a family over and I had a PARTY. (How sophisticated!) I really loved my sixth birthday - I have good memories of it. I got a lovely red dress with flowers, and THE most gorgeous pink notebook with a ballerina on it and hearts and sparkles. I was obsessed with it, and bragged it around. I had a chocolate cake, and there's photo proof that my little brother was crying because I blew the candles, and not him. :-P (Sorry mate, that's how it works. The birthday girl blows the candles.)
I wore the same red dress on my seventh birthday. That's all I know. (Oh, and my cake had smarties.)
On my eighth birthday we had that family over again. (The mum of the family is my godmother, and their kids were all roughly the ages of our family's kids, hence their frequent presence in my childhood birthdays.) I had a long paper crown on again (#embarrassing) and my cake was shaped in the shape of an '8' which is just COOL. (The following picture is me at my fourth birthday, not eighth.)
I had that family over again on my ninth birthday, and we ate muffins (I ate them in an agitated manner) and grapes and played 'pass the parcle.' (I hope you got the agitated manner quote. Because I only put that in for the quotes sake.)
Then I was ten. Double digits. Goodness, I felt so old that day, and now I look back and grin at my small-ness. I got pyjamas (really pretty ones, because they were pink, duh) and I got Kirsten and Felicity (American Girl books) collection AND some of the Caroline series in Little House. I must have been reading the whole day, and I must have really liked that a lot.
For my eleventh birthday, we put grape-juice in wineglasses and fooled my dad when he came home. (Of course he didn't really think I was drinking wine; he just pretended to think that, and I thought he really thought it.) By this time, by the way, I had seven siblings, so birthdays were starting to get NOISY. (The following picture is just a random picture; nothing to do with birthdays. Of snow. Made yesterday.)
I ate croissants, and wore a necklace one of my aunts made for me, but I don't know ANYTHING else. Maybe I'm getting old.
I became A TEENAGER. How cool is that. This birthday was really fun: My grandparents came over, and, as a birthday treat, I tried on my mum's wedding dress and walked around wearing it in the house. (I'd like to do that again, actually; because it was a lot of fun.) (I remember my grandma asking me who the lucky fellow was. Ha. Lucky.) Oh, and I think this was the first birthday in which I watched Pride and Prejudice! The first of maaaany. (I say that as if I'm eighty.)
I know that I watched Pride and Prejudice. :-)
I watched Pride and Prejudice and became REALLY CRAZY. And I wished Emma a happy birthday for the first time ever. I got some clothes, and some Wanda Brunstetter books (about the Amish) which I STILL haven't read because they turned out to be dead boring. It was on this birthday also that I discovered it was National Hugging Day on my birthday. SO let's give hugs.
I posted about my birthday, for the first time. :-P And I had a post written for ME. Which I didn't deserve, because it was too sweet. I sang 'I am Sixteen' (and now I CAN'T), got some new clothes and watched P&P.
Well, so far my day has been wonderful and relaxing and I've been SPOILT. :-) I got some adorable jewellery, books and a scarf. (You want to know which books? Okay then. Fly Away Home by Rachel Heffington, While Mortals Sleep by Jack Cavanaugh, and the Emily Series by L.M.Montgomery with the MOST gorgeous covers. I'm in love.) And of course we're rewatching PrideandPredj (as my dad calls it.) Birthdays are good days; I love 'em. :-)
Olivia, you wanted to see my wall art. Here you go. :-) (I admit I'm rather proud of it. Good old Pinterest. You make my room pretty.)