I Have Never Once Thought “Eh, Close Enough, Combine Them”

We have been in the birthday run since May. With this many kids there is bound to be a stretch where it’s birthday after birthday — ours goes May 20, June 6, June 16, July 12, and July 25. We get a break until December. When you have four biological children, two bonus kids, and a husband you genuinely want to celebrate, the planning never fully stops. Nick will tell you I’m already thinking about the next one while I’m still executing the current one. He’s not wrong. It’s exhausting and I love every second of it.

Every single one of them wakes up to the entire dining room decorated. Just for them. Just for their day. Because the day they came into this world matters and I want them to feel that.

This year one of my bonus girls turned 16. What started as a family celebration turned into a full covert operation I had to build from scratch in two days.

She came to me in tears. The party she had planned at her mom’s wasn’t happening on her actual birthday — it was getting combined with her Irish Twin’s celebration instead. Again. She wasn’t asking for much. She just wanted to celebrate with her friends on her day. And while she was pouring all of that out in front of me, I was already quietly building an e-vite, getting it to her older sister for disbursement, and pulling something together she had absolutely no idea was coming. Two days. Zero leaked secrets.

What I wasn’t prepared for was having to let her walk out the door that morning thinking I forgot.

Because I don’t do that. I have never done that. But to pull off the surprise, she had to believe — even just for a few hours — that nobody was making a fuss. I watched her move through the house getting ready, holding something back. Her sister came home that afternoon and told me she had cried at school. That she genuinely believed nobody wanted to celebrate her. Her friends who were already in on it kept trying to tell her that maybe her day was about to get better. She didn’t believe them.

Meanwhile, Nick picked her up from school and took her thrifting — casual, no big deal, totally normal Thursday energy. When I needed more time he took her for a long drive. When she said she needed to go home because she had to pee, he drove past our old house. Ten minutes in the wrong direction. She had no idea.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, she was grabbing her bags from the back seat when the garage door opened. Seven of her closest friends yelled surprise. She cried with excitement, dropped her bag — and immediately sprinted to the bathroom.

Because of course she did. She really had to pee.

I’m glad it worked. I’m glad she felt that love. But I want to be clear: I don’t disappoint or hurt someone I love intentionally so I can be the hero later. That’s not who I am. Sitting with that discomfort, even for a good outcome, wasn’t something I could just shake off.

She’s the younger of the Irish Twins. Which means she has spent her entire life in proximity to her sister’s milestones. And even on her own birthday — the one day that is supposed to be entirely hers — it got absorbed into someone else’s moment. Again.

I have never once looked at any of my kids and thought — eh, close enough, combine them. Not one time. So no, I don’t understand it. And honestly I’ve stopped trying to.

What I’ve had to accept — there’s that stinking word again — is that I am the steady love in these girls’ lives. It isn’t conditional. It doesn’t come with strings or moods or better offers. But I also have to accept that when their mom decides to show up the way she should, it will always land differently than when I do. Not because my love is less. Just because biology is a different kind of currency and I wasn’t born into theirs.

And when I fall short — even by necessity, even for a surprise — they will feel that disappointment a little deeper coming from me. Because they know I’m the one who always shows up. That’s the weight of being the steady love. It’s also the honor of it.

On a lighter note — because this family refuses to stay heavy for long — Evelyn is coming into her own sense of humor and we have finally settled into a decent nap and bedtime routine. As long as she’s asleep before 8pm, the next day is survivable for everyone.

Part of the bedtime routine is singing “You Are My Sunshine.” What started as a sweet quiet moment has fully evolved into a Will Ferrell and Jimmy Fallon “Don’t Stop Believin’” situation. “Why were you crying? Why were your dreams shattered?” She thinks it’s hilarious. I’ve created a monster and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

We also got the official letter that Evelyn starts pre-K in the fall — which means a few hours a day to do something that actually contributes financially. I am genuinely open to suggestions. Send them.

Nick’s suggestion? Party planning.

I pulled off a surprise sweet 16 in two days, recruited a decoy driver who took a ten minute detour past our old house so a teenager could almost pee her pants before walking into her own surprise party — and zero secrets were leaked.

If that’s not a skill set, I truly don’t know what is.

On to the next party.

What’s something you carry in your family that often goes unseen? Drop it in the comments. You’re not alone in the heavy lifting — and this is a safe place to say so.