Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Monday, February 22, 2010
Happy Birthday Dave!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVE! You're my favorite little brother (never mind that you're my only little brother)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Happy Birthday Wiggle!
One year ago today you were just born! And boy, were a lot of people (including and especially me) happy for you to finally get here! I was going to post a pic of you then and a pic of you now, but that will have to wait, because I'm not having any success loading pics onto my blog on my Mac. Oh well. HAPPY BIRTHDAY WIGGLE! I am so happy you're here!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
¡feliz cumpleaños Mike & Chris!
Mike and Chris turned 24 on August 13th, but Mike was in Mexico City and Chris was in Dallas. On Saturday night we remedied that. Chris, Stephanie, Mike, Brooke, Katharina, Brenden, Xander, A and I got together for a birthday dinner at my house. A cooked a delicious dinner of barbecued beans, pulled pork and cole slaw. For dessert there was homemade ice cream and, as always, two birthday cakes, after which, finally, Mike and Chris celebrated their 24th birthday together, with shots of mescal in my kitchen.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Happy Birthday Dave!
Peering out of tiny eyes
The grubby hands that gripped the rail
Wiped the window clean of frost
As the morning air laid on the latch
A whistle awakened someone there
Next door to the nursery just down the hall
A strange new sound, she never heard before
A strange new sound...that makes girls explore
Tread neat, so small, those little feet
Amid the morn the small heart beats
So much excitement yesterday
That must be rewarded...must be displayed
Large hands lift her through the air
Excited eyes contain her there
The eyes of those she loves and knows
But what's this extra bed just here?
Her puzzled head tips to one side
Amazement swims in those bright green eyes
Glancing down upon this thing
That makes strange sounds...strange sounds that sing
In those silent happy seconds
That surround the sound of this event
A parent smile is made in moments...
They have made for you a friend
And all you ever learned from them
Until you grew much older
Did not compare with when they said
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
The Greatest Discovery, by Elton John
...this is your brand new brother...
Happy 56th, Dave
The grubby hands that gripped the rail
Wiped the window clean of frost
As the morning air laid on the latch
A whistle awakened someone there
Next door to the nursery just down the hall
A strange new sound, she never heard before
A strange new sound...that makes girls explore
Tread neat, so small, those little feet
Amid the morn the small heart beats
So much excitement yesterday
That must be rewarded...must be displayed
Large hands lift her through the air
Excited eyes contain her there
The eyes of those she loves and knows
But what's this extra bed just here?
Her puzzled head tips to one side
Amazement swims in those bright green eyes
Glancing down upon this thing
That makes strange sounds...strange sounds that sing
In those silent happy seconds
That surround the sound of this event
A parent smile is made in moments...
They have made for you a friend
And all you ever learned from them
Until you grew much older
Did not compare with when they said
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
The Greatest Discovery, by Elton John
I was not quite 3½ years old when you were born, but I have that sort of elephant memory thing, so there are details that I remember quite well. We were living in the country, in southeastern Minnesota, in a drafty old farmhouse: two stories tall, no central heat, no indoor plumbing.
Mom had told me she was going to have a baby, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I had other things to think about. I was terribly lonely, always; that is my overwhelming memory of that place. The fact that I had 5 older siblings was no consolation; there was too much of an age difference for me to be allowed to tag along with any of them. My only, constant companion, E, was usually referred to, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a tsk tsk, depending on who was commenting, as my imaginary friend. Even at 3, I preferred to think of E as my invisible friend, as E was quite real to me. And anyway, E wasn’t a child, but an adult male, whom I chatted up all day as I wandered around the house and yard, exploring, always hoping to find something wonderful and regularly being disappointed in that endeavor, in that place.
Mom never learned to drive, but even if she had, we had just one car, so trips into town were few and far between. Accordingly, Mom sometimes ordered things from the Sears catalogue. I had no idea where babies came from, and at 3, no particular interest in finding out, but it occurred to me, one icy afternoon in late January when a large package from Sears arrived in the mail, that perhaps "the baby" was inside that package! I waited impatiently for Mom to open it, and was incredibly disappointed to see that the big box, so full of promise, held nothing more than a very ordinary, oversized, dark blue and white, speckled enamel roasting pan. As Mom sat in the kitchen, with the roasting pan on her lap, I urged her to put the lid on, and then take it off again, quickly, convinced, if she’d just do that, that "the baby" would magically appear. In late pregnancy, Mom was in no mood to humor me. I managed to try it myself, several times, later that afternoon, only to discover it didn’t work for me either.
Three weeks later, I was quite upset when I woke one morning and found that Mom was gone. Dad said she’d gone to the hospital "to have the baby". In an attempt to amuse me and perhaps distract me from missing her so much, he took me to a neighbor’s farm, where I was allowed to help bottle feed some baby lambs. I still remember the thrill of feeling a baby lamb tugging hard at the bottle I was holding. After what seemed like forever, but in fact was probably about a week, Mom came home. You were in her arms, but I couldn't see you because you were completely and tidily wrapped up against the winter cold in a soft blue baby blanket. Mom walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where she laid you down in your bed: a big dresser drawer lined with an old quilt. She got you settled there, then she called me to come see you.
I heard you before I saw you: you were making throaty little snuffling sounds. Curious, I knelt on my knees beside the drawer, and bent over the edge to see you up close. My first impression was that you smelled great. Also, you were very pink. You were still swaddled up in that soft blue blanket. The satin edge was cool, and wonderfully smooth to touch, and I felt a wave of envy, running my fingertips lightly over the edge of that lush blanket.
Then I saw that you were looking right at me, staring intently, and I was transfixed. As you studied me with your big baby blues, Mom told me to hold out a finger. She said that you’d grab it if I did. I didn’t believe her, so I pointed a finger and held it in the air in front of you, right above your tightly closed fist, just to prove her wrong. Mom said, "Touch his hand," and I did...to my surprise, your fist flew open. For a moment, your fingers waved dreamily, randomly, like the tentacles on an anemone...but the moment your fingers touched mine, you grabbed on, curling your entire hand tightly around my finger, and holding fast, with a grip like a vice. I laughed out loud, surprised and happy at the magic of that contact, of that moment...
Mom had told me she was going to have a baby, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I had other things to think about. I was terribly lonely, always; that is my overwhelming memory of that place. The fact that I had 5 older siblings was no consolation; there was too much of an age difference for me to be allowed to tag along with any of them. My only, constant companion, E, was usually referred to, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a tsk tsk, depending on who was commenting, as my imaginary friend. Even at 3, I preferred to think of E as my invisible friend, as E was quite real to me. And anyway, E wasn’t a child, but an adult male, whom I chatted up all day as I wandered around the house and yard, exploring, always hoping to find something wonderful and regularly being disappointed in that endeavor, in that place.
Mom never learned to drive, but even if she had, we had just one car, so trips into town were few and far between. Accordingly, Mom sometimes ordered things from the Sears catalogue. I had no idea where babies came from, and at 3, no particular interest in finding out, but it occurred to me, one icy afternoon in late January when a large package from Sears arrived in the mail, that perhaps "the baby" was inside that package! I waited impatiently for Mom to open it, and was incredibly disappointed to see that the big box, so full of promise, held nothing more than a very ordinary, oversized, dark blue and white, speckled enamel roasting pan. As Mom sat in the kitchen, with the roasting pan on her lap, I urged her to put the lid on, and then take it off again, quickly, convinced, if she’d just do that, that "the baby" would magically appear. In late pregnancy, Mom was in no mood to humor me. I managed to try it myself, several times, later that afternoon, only to discover it didn’t work for me either.
Three weeks later, I was quite upset when I woke one morning and found that Mom was gone. Dad said she’d gone to the hospital "to have the baby". In an attempt to amuse me and perhaps distract me from missing her so much, he took me to a neighbor’s farm, where I was allowed to help bottle feed some baby lambs. I still remember the thrill of feeling a baby lamb tugging hard at the bottle I was holding. After what seemed like forever, but in fact was probably about a week, Mom came home. You were in her arms, but I couldn't see you because you were completely and tidily wrapped up against the winter cold in a soft blue baby blanket. Mom walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where she laid you down in your bed: a big dresser drawer lined with an old quilt. She got you settled there, then she called me to come see you.
I heard you before I saw you: you were making throaty little snuffling sounds. Curious, I knelt on my knees beside the drawer, and bent over the edge to see you up close. My first impression was that you smelled great. Also, you were very pink. You were still swaddled up in that soft blue blanket. The satin edge was cool, and wonderfully smooth to touch, and I felt a wave of envy, running my fingertips lightly over the edge of that lush blanket.
Then I saw that you were looking right at me, staring intently, and I was transfixed. As you studied me with your big baby blues, Mom told me to hold out a finger. She said that you’d grab it if I did. I didn’t believe her, so I pointed a finger and held it in the air in front of you, right above your tightly closed fist, just to prove her wrong. Mom said, "Touch his hand," and I did...to my surprise, your fist flew open. For a moment, your fingers waved dreamily, randomly, like the tentacles on an anemone...but the moment your fingers touched mine, you grabbed on, curling your entire hand tightly around my finger, and holding fast, with a grip like a vice. I laughed out loud, surprised and happy at the magic of that contact, of that moment...
...this is your brand new brother...
Happy 56th, Dave
Friday, January 30, 2009
Happy Birthday Alexandra!
33 years ago today this picture was taken. Well, actually it was 33 years ago tomorrow; you were all of one day old. You were born at 4:48 PM in the then brand new Prentice Women's Hospital in Chicago. Afterward, you roomed in with me in 810 West. It was Friday. Gerald Ford was President and Richard J. Daley Sr. was mayor of Chicago. The best cars on the road were the VW Diesel Rabbit and the Honda Civic. You were the first grandchild on Dad's side and the 22nd on my side, not that that made my parents any less excited about your arrival. Shortly after I called to announce your birth they got into a truck driven by Aunt Carolyn and traveled a little over 300 miles through a blizzard to make your acquaintance. You couldn't have cared less. And now, 33 years later, you're the new mother of a 3 day old baby yourself. It doesn't seem possible.
There has never been a day that I haven't been happy that we had you, and proud to be your mother. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!
Love,
Mom
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
birthday afterglow...
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.
Chaucer, at
At Sixty wrote the
Goethe, at Weimer, toiling to the last,
Completed Faust when eighty years were past.
What then? Shall we sit idly down and say
The night hath come; it is no longer day?
The night hath not yet come; we are not quite
Cut off from labor by failing light;
For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
(Longfellow)
I had a great birthday. For starters, I took the day off, so I didn’t have the horrendous commute. Next, because it falls on September 11th, I didn’t turn on the television all day, as watching reruns of what happened in 2001 is always too depressing. As it was, the day began with my spending three and a half hours up close and personal with my dentist, something I hadn’t anticipated, but the upside (in addition to the dental work now completed) is that when his staff found out it was my birthday, they gave me a bottle of champagne (“special mouth wash” - actually Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin) which is chilling in my fridge as I type. I loved that!
After the rather grueling trip to the dentist, mouth still numb, I drove a few blocks to The Crescent, where Tuan worked his magic and gave me a decent haircut. At home there were cards, emails, voice mails and phone calls with birthday greetings from friends and family, including all 4 kids and recently turned 6-Alexander, who thinks I’m 38 (thank you, Kath!). In the evening, a terrific present, and one I hadn’t anticipated: Chris came over and hung out for a couple of hours. We curled up on opposite couches in the living room, he with a beer and I with a glass of wine, and we talked books, politics and religion, non-stop, until midnight. Then on Friday night, A, Kath, Chris, Stephanie & I had dinner together at a small neighborhood Italian restaurant, where we sat around talking and laughing until we realized we were the last ones there, and we needed to leave because the staff, who was being very gracious about it, needed to close.
It doesn't get much better than that, and so I'm taking a moment to write about it. I have such a great safety net of friends and family; people I love and who love me, and the older I get, the more I appreciate that. It's one of the best things about getting older: gaining perspective and learning to appreciate things I didn't see or took for granted when I was younger.
Life is good.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Thoughts on turning 59...
Today is my 59th birthday.
It's not quite 6 AM & I'm sitting here writing, listening to a favorite CD Alex gave me a couple of years ago, Madeleine Peyroux's Careless Love. I'm taking today & tomorrow off. I worked almost 16 hours Tuesday, because I had a report due next Monday that I wanted to finish, (which I did - I always deliver), so I'll still have clocked almost 40 hours this week (yep, this is me, whining about the long hours). All of which is my verbose way of saying I'm really looking forward to my couple of days off. I'm not doing anything major: this morning I'm going to the dentist, and this afternoon I'm going for a long overdue visit to Tuan, my hairdresser. I'm looking forward to that. I know how it'll go. Tuan will give me a hug and lead me to his work station. I'll sit down, and he'll ask if I'd like anything to drink. I usally have coffee, but since it's my birthday, maybe I'll have a glass of wine. He'll bring that to me, and then he'll stand behind me and run his fingers through my hair before he sighs and says, "Ah, Zhoodeee, you do not geev me much to work weeth!" And that said, he'll proceed to perform his magic and give me a great haircut.
I'm having dinner with my family one of these nights, although nothing's in place yet. I'm going to clean my house and do a little laundry. I may start tiling the guest bath, and I may go visit a couple of fabricators to see if I can find a piece of travertine for the countertop in there, because I want to finish that bath before Christmas. I'm going to Lowe's to pick up a tread and riser as I'm toying with the idea of tackling the stairs myself, and I'm back to thinking hardwood is a better option than carpet. I figure I'll start with one step, to see whether I can do it. It's not as if the stairs aren't built, after all, and if it seems like more than I can handle, well, at least I'll know that.
It's not quite 6 AM & I'm sitting here writing, listening to a favorite CD Alex gave me a couple of years ago, Madeleine Peyroux's Careless Love. I'm taking today & tomorrow off. I worked almost 16 hours Tuesday, because I had a report due next Monday that I wanted to finish, (which I did - I always deliver), so I'll still have clocked almost 40 hours this week (yep, this is me, whining about the long hours). All of which is my verbose way of saying I'm really looking forward to my couple of days off. I'm not doing anything major: this morning I'm going to the dentist, and this afternoon I'm going for a long overdue visit to Tuan, my hairdresser. I'm looking forward to that. I know how it'll go. Tuan will give me a hug and lead me to his work station. I'll sit down, and he'll ask if I'd like anything to drink. I usally have coffee, but since it's my birthday, maybe I'll have a glass of wine. He'll bring that to me, and then he'll stand behind me and run his fingers through my hair before he sighs and says, "Ah, Zhoodeee, you do not geev me much to work weeth!" And that said, he'll proceed to perform his magic and give me a great haircut.
I'm having dinner with my family one of these nights, although nothing's in place yet. I'm going to clean my house and do a little laundry. I may start tiling the guest bath, and I may go visit a couple of fabricators to see if I can find a piece of travertine for the countertop in there, because I want to finish that bath before Christmas. I'm going to Lowe's to pick up a tread and riser as I'm toying with the idea of tackling the stairs myself, and I'm back to thinking hardwood is a better option than carpet. I figure I'll start with one step, to see whether I can do it. It's not as if the stairs aren't built, after all, and if it seems like more than I can handle, well, at least I'll know that.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Happy Birthday, beautiful boy!
Happy Birthday Alexander! Wow, you are SIX today. I can hardly believe it. It seems like I've just blinked a few times since you were born, but obviously that's not so, because you're a big boy now...you're in first grade, and you can swim and spell and read and write and tell jokes...FUNNY jokes...wellllllllll...Dr. Seuss said it better than I ever could:
In Katroo, every year on the day you were born
They start the day bright in the bright early morn
When the birthday Honk-Honker hikes high up Mt. Zorn
And lets loose a big blast on the big Birthday Horn.
And the voice of the horn calls out loud as it plays:
"Wake Up! For today is your Day of all Days!"
Then, the moment the horn's happy honk-honk is heard,
Comes a fluttering flap-flap! And then comes THE BIRD!
The great Birthday Bird!
And, so far as I know,
Katroo is the only place birthday birds grow.
This bird has a brain. He's most beautifully brained
With the brainiest bird-brain that's ever been trained.
He was trained by the most splendid Club in this nation,
The Katroo Happy Birthday Asso-see-eye-ation.
And, whether your name's Alexander or Paul,
When your birthday comes round, he's in charge of it all.
And here comes your cake!
Cooked by Snookers and Snookers,
The official Katroo Happy Birthday Cake Cookers.
And Snookers and Snookers, I'm happy to say,
Are the only cake cookers who cook cakes today
Made of guaranteed, certified, strictly Grade-A
Peppermint cucumber sausage-paste butter!
And the world's finest cake slicers, Dutter and Dutter
And Dutter and Dutter with hatchets a-flutter,
High up on the poop-deck, stand ready to cut her
Today you are you! That is truer than true!
There is no one alive who is you-er than you!
Shout loud "I am lucky to be what I am!
Thank goodness I'm not just a clam or a ham!
Or a dusty old jar of sour gooseberry jam!
I am what I am! That's a great thing to be!
If I say so myself, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"
Now, by horseback and Bird-back, and Hiffer-back too,
Come your firends! All your friends! From all over Katroo!
And the Birthday Pal-alace heats up with hot friends
And your party goes on!
On and on
Till it ends.
When it ends,
You're much happier,
Richer and Fatter.
And the bird flies you home
On a very soft platter.
So that's
What the Birthday Bird
Does in Katroo
And I wish
I could do
All these great things for you!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Happy Birthday Mike & Chris!
23 years ago tonight you were born. You were approximately two weeks late, so I was very happy to have you finally arrive, albeit by C-section. You were big guys from the start (part of the reason for the Cesarean), weighing in at a whopping 8 pounds each (actually, Mike, you weighed 8 pounds 2 ounces, making you slightly heavier and a full 2 minutes older than Chris). From the beginning, you’ve been best friends, and it makes me smile to think that tonight you're in
Friday, February 22, 2008
Happy Birthday, Dave!
Peering out of tiny eyes The grubby hands that gripped the rail
Wiped the window clean of frost
As the morning air laid on the latch
A whistle awakened someone there
Next door to the nursery just down the hall
A strange new sound, you never heard before
A strange new sound...that makes girls explore
Tread neat, so small, those little feet
Amid the morn the small heart beats
So much excitement yesterday
That must be rewarded...must be displayed
Large hands lift her through the air
Excited eyes contain her there
The eyes of those she loves and knows
But what's this extra bed just here?
Her puzzled head tips to one side
Amazement swims in those bright green eyes
Glancing down upon this thing
That makes strange sounds...strange sounds that sing
In those silent happy seconds
That surround the sound of this event
A parent smile is made in moments...
They have made for you a friend
And all you ever learned from them
Until you grew much older
Did not compare with when they said
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
The Greatest Discovery, by Elton John
I was not quite 3½ years old when you were born, but I have that sort of elephant memory thing, so there are details that I remember quite well. We were living in the country, in southwestern Wisconsin, in a drafty old farmhouse: two stories tall, no central heat, no indoor plumbing.
Mom had told me she was going to have a baby, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I had other things to think about. I was terribly lonely, always; that is my overwhelming memory of that place. The fact that I had 5 older siblings was no consolation; there was too much of an age difference for me to be allowed to tag along with any of them. My only, constant companion, E, was usually referred to, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a tsk tsk, depending on who was commenting, as my imaginary friend. Even at 3, I preferred to think of E as my invisible friend, as E was quite real to me. And anyway, E wasn’t a child, but an adult male, whom I chatted up all day as I wandered around the house and yard, exploring, always hoping to find something wonderful and regularly being disappointed in that endeavor, in that place.
Mom never learned to drive, but even if she had, we had just one car, so trips into town were few and far between. Accordingly, Mom sometimes ordered things from the Sears catalogue. I had no idea where babies came from, and at 3, no particular interest in finding out, but it occurred to me, one icy afternoon in late January when a large package from Sears arrived in the mail, that perhaps "the baby" was inside that package! I waited impatiently for Mom to open it, and was incredibly disappointed to see that the big box, so full of promise, held nothing more than a very ordinary, oversized, dark blue and white, speckled enamel roasting pan. As Mom sat in the kitchen, with the roasting pan on her lap, I urged her to put the lid on, and then take it off again, quickly, convinced, if she’d just do that, that "the baby" would magically appear. In late pregnancy, Mom was in no mood to humor me. I managed to try it myself, several times, later that afternoon, only to discover it didn’t work for me either.
Three weeks later, I was quite upset when I woke one morning and found that Mom was gone. Dad said she’d gone to the hospital "to have the baby". In an attempt to amuse me and perhaps distract me from missing her so much, he took me to a neighbor’s farm, where I was allowed to help bottle feed some baby lambs. I still remember the thrill of feeling a baby lamb tugging hard at the bottle I was holding. After what seemed like forever, but in fact was probably about a week, Mom came home. You were in her arms, but I couldn't see you because you were completely and tidily wrapped up against the winter cold in a soft blue baby blanket. Mom walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where she laid you down in your bed: a big dresser drawer lined with an old quilt. She got you settled there, then she called me to come see you.
I heard you before I saw you: you were making throaty little snuffling sounds. Curious, I knelt on my knees beside the drawer, and bent over the edge to see you up close. My first impression was that you smelled great. Also, you were very pink. You were still swaddled up in that soft blue blanket. The satin edge was cool, and wonderfully smooth to touch, and I felt a wave of envy, running my fingertips lightly over the edge of that lush blanket.
Then I saw that you were looking right at me, staring intently, and I was transfixed. As you studied me with your big baby blues, Mom told me to hold out a finger. She said that you’d grab it if I did. I didn’t believe her, so I pointed a finger and held it in the air in front of you, right above your tightly closed fist, just to prove her wrong. Mom said, "Touch his hand," and I did...to my surprise, your fist flew open. For a moment, your fingers waved dreamily, randomly, like the tentacles on an anemone...but the moment your fingers touched mine, you grabbed on, curling your entire hand tightly around my finger, and holding fast, with a grip like a vice. I laughed out loud, surprised and happy at the magic of that contact, of that moment...
Mom had told me she was going to have a baby, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I had other things to think about. I was terribly lonely, always; that is my overwhelming memory of that place. The fact that I had 5 older siblings was no consolation; there was too much of an age difference for me to be allowed to tag along with any of them. My only, constant companion, E, was usually referred to, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a tsk tsk, depending on who was commenting, as my imaginary friend. Even at 3, I preferred to think of E as my invisible friend, as E was quite real to me. And anyway, E wasn’t a child, but an adult male, whom I chatted up all day as I wandered around the house and yard, exploring, always hoping to find something wonderful and regularly being disappointed in that endeavor, in that place.
Mom never learned to drive, but even if she had, we had just one car, so trips into town were few and far between. Accordingly, Mom sometimes ordered things from the Sears catalogue. I had no idea where babies came from, and at 3, no particular interest in finding out, but it occurred to me, one icy afternoon in late January when a large package from Sears arrived in the mail, that perhaps "the baby" was inside that package! I waited impatiently for Mom to open it, and was incredibly disappointed to see that the big box, so full of promise, held nothing more than a very ordinary, oversized, dark blue and white, speckled enamel roasting pan. As Mom sat in the kitchen, with the roasting pan on her lap, I urged her to put the lid on, and then take it off again, quickly, convinced, if she’d just do that, that "the baby" would magically appear. In late pregnancy, Mom was in no mood to humor me. I managed to try it myself, several times, later that afternoon, only to discover it didn’t work for me either.
Three weeks later, I was quite upset when I woke one morning and found that Mom was gone. Dad said she’d gone to the hospital "to have the baby". In an attempt to amuse me and perhaps distract me from missing her so much, he took me to a neighbor’s farm, where I was allowed to help bottle feed some baby lambs. I still remember the thrill of feeling a baby lamb tugging hard at the bottle I was holding. After what seemed like forever, but in fact was probably about a week, Mom came home. You were in her arms, but I couldn't see you because you were completely and tidily wrapped up against the winter cold in a soft blue baby blanket. Mom walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where she laid you down in your bed: a big dresser drawer lined with an old quilt. She got you settled there, then she called me to come see you.
I heard you before I saw you: you were making throaty little snuffling sounds. Curious, I knelt on my knees beside the drawer, and bent over the edge to see you up close. My first impression was that you smelled great. Also, you were very pink. You were still swaddled up in that soft blue blanket. The satin edge was cool, and wonderfully smooth to touch, and I felt a wave of envy, running my fingertips lightly over the edge of that lush blanket.
Then I saw that you were looking right at me, staring intently, and I was transfixed. As you studied me with your big baby blues, Mom told me to hold out a finger. She said that you’d grab it if I did. I didn’t believe her, so I pointed a finger and held it in the air in front of you, right above your tightly closed fist, just to prove her wrong. Mom said, "Touch his hand," and I did...to my surprise, your fist flew open. For a moment, your fingers waved dreamily, randomly, like the tentacles on an anemone...but the moment your fingers touched mine, you grabbed on, curling your entire hand tightly around my finger, and holding fast, with a grip like a vice. I laughed out loud, surprised and happy at the magic of that contact, of that moment...
...this is your brand new brother...
Happy Birthday, Dave
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Happy 60th Birthday, Texas style...
A couple of weeks ago, walking into my house one evening, I ran into my next door neighbors. (This is a pic that I took this evening of their gorgeous backyard, or rather, of the gorgeous fence that surrounds their gorgeous backyard, and puts my backyard and every other backyard in a couple of miles quite to shame).I've known Charles and Melissa since I moved into my house in 1984. They're terrific neighbors: warm and friendly and totally likeable. With them, it's easy to do all the usual neighborly things: when they're out of town, I watch their house and take in their mail, and the favor is returned when I'm away. When my house caught fire a few years ago, as the boys and I stood on the sidewalk, in shock, watching and shivering, Charlie and Melissa came over and stood with us, and I remember Melissa wrapping a jacket around my shoulders and saying quietly, "Anything we can do, you let us know." That was a real comfort to me, because I knew that she meant it. The B's are people you can count on, and I hope they view me the same way.
We don't socialize much, although sometimes we do grab a bite to eat together. These days, when we run into each other, mostly we commiserate on being aging boomers. When I ran into them a couple of weeks ago, though, both of them were all smiles.
"Hey, watch your mail, we sent you an invitation," Melissa said.
"Woo hoo! What's the occasion?" I asked.
"Charlie's turning 60 and we're throwing a party," Melissa began, and Charlie continued, "Yeah, and it's a Western theme, and there's gonna be LIVE entertainment, and Judi, I'm not gonna say what it is, but here's a clue: don't STEP on the entertainment!"
Hmmmmmmm...don't STEP on it? I tried to think what that could mean, other than snakes, but came up with nothing.
This morning, I ran into Charlie and Melissa again.
"You might be mad at us," Charlie said.
"Why would I be mad at you?" I asked.
"We sprayed your yard for mosquitoes," he said, and then corrected himself, "Well, we sprayed HALF your yard, the half closest to us. We sprayed our yard too..."
"You think that's gonna make me mad?" I asked, incredulously. "Nah, I can live without the mosquitoes, thanks, guys!"
"Well, we did it because we wanna have some people in your yard at the party tonight...we didn't think to ask you until now, but is that OK?"
"Of course that's OK," I said, and wondered if they were going to have fireworks.
"Bring Xander," Charlie said mysteriously, "He'll love what's going to happen!"
Xander will turn 5 next month. "It's gotta be fireworks," I thought.
It rained today but cleared up in late afternoon. This evening after showering, I put on jeans and a plaid shirt. I went into my back yard and picked a yellow shasta daisy and a cluster of Dahlburg daisies and placed the fresh flowers in the band of my old white straw Resistol.
Then I put on my hat and stepped outside. It was a little after 7:00, and as I walked toward the alley that lies between my house and Charlie & Melissa's, I saw that a rectangular Plexiglass enclosure had been set up. It ran the width of the alley and was approximately 3 feet high by (as I would later learn) 16 feet long. Inside the enclosure, the concrete was covered with cedar shavings, and three small animal carriers, of the size and type that I use to take my cats to the vet, sat at one end. I noticed that the three carriers were filled with straw.I was surprised, and thought, Charlie's celebrating his 60th birthday with a petting zoo? They don't have grandchildren yet...that's sort of strange. Charlie's right, Xander will love it, but it's not what I expected at all...
Xander was standing at one side of the enclosure, studying the carriers intently. A tall guy with a moustache, boots, and a hat much bigger than mine was unloading some things, including a big megaphone, from a trailer in the alley. I wonder if he's all hat and no cowboy? I thought.
Before I had time to think about that, Xander voiced what I wanted to know, asking, "What's in THOSE?!?!?!" as he pointed at the carriers.The man grinned, and said in a slow drawl, "AHR-MUH-DILLOWS, LAHV AHR-MUH-DILLOWS, Ah'm an ahr-muh-dillow wrangler, and we're gonna have LAHV AHR-MUH-DILLOW races RAHT HEE-YAR!"
That said, he opened the first carrier, thrust an arm inside, and with a flourish, retrieved an armadillo, by its tail, from the straw. He placed it on the ground where it was soon followed by two others. He then filled a shallow pan with cold water and placed it on the ground. To my surprise, all 3 armadillos made a beeline for the pan and jumped in, splashing around on top of each other.
"They're hot," he said, and then he went on to explain that armadillos are mammals, not marsupials or reptiles, and that 9-banded armadillos like these (Dasypus novemcinctus) are the State Mammal of Texas. (Do you know the state mammal for your state? Huh? Do you?!?!)9-banded armadillos like these are the only species of armadillo that occurs in North America. Approximately 20 other species of armadillos exist, but all of those are found in South and Central America.
Adult Texas armadillos like these weigh anywhere from twelve to seventeen pounds. The wrangler didn't tell us this, but I found it on the web: Because of the bony carapace and ventral position of the genitalia, copulation occurs with the female lying on her back.
Uh-huh. Moving right along...births occur in the spring and are always identical quadruplets.
Soon it was time for the races. The wrangler began by pointing out that unlike races licensed by the Texas Racing Commission, e.g., NASCAR, armadillo racing does not require a huge, expensive track. He explained that the length of the run is 16' because that's the width of most country roads in Texas, and it's a known fact that armadillos can make it across those roads fairly quickly when they need to. The wrangler waxed eloquent about other virtues of armadillo racing, e.g., unlike parimutuel racing, armadillo racing is unfettered by unsavory underworld types; unlike professional sports, including the NBA, NFL, Baseball, etc., armadillo racing is unscathed by strikes or ludicrous player salaries because armadillos race only for earthworms (and for the sheer joy of racing, or so I'm told...)
Uh, except for these two...I'm sure it was just a COINCIDENCE that they retreated to a corner where they piled up and appeared to be sulking immediately after a couple of the guests were heard discussing David Beckham's five-year contract with the Galaxy that will pay him a base salary of $5.5 million annually...
Gentlemen, start your engines...er, jockeys, grab yer armadillos!
Note the jockeys are wearing gloves, not because armadillos bite (they have small, peg-shaped teeth that aren't much of a threat to anyone) but because like humans, nine-banded armadillos can carry Hansen's disease, or leprosy. In fact, I read on the net (The Straight Dope), "other than humans, 9-banded armadillos, of which there are 30 to 50 million in the southeastern U.S., are believed to be the only significant natural reservoir of leprosy, although a few cases have been found in chimps and mangabey monkeys in Africa."
All too soon, the armadillo races were over, and it was time to have some birthday dinner in Charlie & Melissa's beautiful backyard...
The hammock beckoned, but I resisted...
It's fair to say, a good time was had by all...
Thursday, February 22, 2007
The Greatest Discovery...
Peering out of tiny eyes The grubby hands that gripped the rail
Wiped the window clean of frost
As the morning air laid on the latch
A whistle awakened someone there
Next door to the nursery just down the hall
A strange new sound, you never heard before
A strange new sound...that makes girls explore
Tread neat, so small, those little feet
Amid the morn the small heart beats
So much excitement yesterday
That must be rewarded...must be displayed
Large hands lift her through the air
Excited eyes contain her there
The eyes of those she loves and knows
But what's this extra bed just here?
Her puzzled head tips to one side
Amazement swims in those bright green eyes
Glancing down upon this thing
That makes strange sounds...strange sounds that sing
In those silent happy seconds
That surround the sound of this event
A parent smile is made in moments...
They have made for you a friend
And all you ever learned from them
Until you grew much older
Did not compare with when they said
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
This is your brand new brother...
The Greatest Discovery, by Elton John
I was not quite 3½ years old when you were born, but I have that sort of elephant memory thing, so there are details that I remember quite well. We were living in the country, in southwestern Wisconsin, in a drafty old farmhouse: two stories tall, no central heat, no indoor plumbing.
Mom had told me she was going to have a baby, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I had other things to think about. I was terribly lonely, always; that is my overwhelming memory of that place. The fact that I had 5 older siblings was no consolation; there was too much of an age difference for me to be allowed to tag along with any of them. My only, constant companion, E, was usually referred to, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a tsk tsk, depending on who was commenting, as my imaginary friend. Even at 3, I preferred to think of E as my invisible friend, as E was quite real to me. And anyway, E wasn’t a child, but an adult male, whom I chatted up all day as I wandered around the house and yard, exploring, always hoping to find something wonderful and regularly being disappointed in that endeavor, in that place.
Mom never learned to drive, but even if she had, we had just one car, so trips into town were few and far between. Accordingly, Mom sometimes ordered things from the Sears catalogue. I had no idea where babies came from, and at 3, no particular interest in finding out, but it occurred to me, one icy afternoon in late January when a large package from Sears arrived in the mail, that perhaps "the baby" was inside that package! I waited impatiently for Mom to open it, and was incredibly disappointed to see that the big box, so full of promise, held nothing more than a very ordinary, oversized, dark blue and white, speckled enamel roasting pan. As Mom sat in the kitchen, with the roasting pan on her lap, I urged her to put the lid on, and then take it off again, quickly, convinced, if she’d just do that, that "the baby" would magically appear. In late pregnancy, Mom was in no mood to humor me. I managed to try it myself, several times, later that afternoon, only to discover it didn’t work for me either.
Three weeks later, I was quite upset when I woke one morning and found that Mom was gone. Dad said she’d gone to the hospital "to have the baby". In an attempt to amuse me and perhaps distract me from missing her so much, he took me to a neighbor’s farm, where I was allowed to help bottle feed some baby lambs. I still remember the thrill of feeling a baby lamb tugging hard at the bottle I was holding, but I also remember the awful hives that began to erupt almost immediately after I'd touched their fluffy coats. In a short time, I was covered in eczema. Coincidentally, I lost most of my hair. Poor Mom. When she came home from the hospital, I was almost bald, and covered in an oozing red rash.
After what seemed like forever, but in fact was probably about a week, Mom came home. You were in her arms, but I couldn't see you because you were completely and tidily wrapped up against the winter cold in a soft blue baby blanket. Mom walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where she laid you down in your bed: a big dresser drawer lined with an old quilt. She got you settled there, then she called me to come see you.
I heard you before I saw you: you were making throaty little snuffling sounds. Curious, I knelt on my knees beside the drawer, and bent over the edge to see you up close. My first impression was that you smelled great. Also, you were very pink. You were still swaddled up in that soft blue blanket. The satin edge was cool, and wonderfully smooth to touch, and I felt a wave of envy, running my fingertips lightly over the edge of that lush blanket.
Then I saw that you were looking right at me, staring intently, and I was transfixed. As you studied me with your big baby blues, Mom told me to hold out a finger. She said that you’d grab it if I did. I didn’t believe her, so I pointed a finger and held it in the air in front of you, right above your tightly closed fist, just to prove her wrong. Mom said, "Touch his hand," and I did...to my surprise, your fist flew open. For a moment, your fingers waved dreamily, randomly, like the tentacles on an anemone...but the moment your fingers touched mine, you grabbed on, curling your entire hand tightly around my finger, and holding fast, with a grip like a vice. I laughed out loud, surprised and happy at the magic of that contact, of that moment...
Mom had told me she was going to have a baby, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I had other things to think about. I was terribly lonely, always; that is my overwhelming memory of that place. The fact that I had 5 older siblings was no consolation; there was too much of an age difference for me to be allowed to tag along with any of them. My only, constant companion, E, was usually referred to, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a tsk tsk, depending on who was commenting, as my imaginary friend. Even at 3, I preferred to think of E as my invisible friend, as E was quite real to me. And anyway, E wasn’t a child, but an adult male, whom I chatted up all day as I wandered around the house and yard, exploring, always hoping to find something wonderful and regularly being disappointed in that endeavor, in that place.
Mom never learned to drive, but even if she had, we had just one car, so trips into town were few and far between. Accordingly, Mom sometimes ordered things from the Sears catalogue. I had no idea where babies came from, and at 3, no particular interest in finding out, but it occurred to me, one icy afternoon in late January when a large package from Sears arrived in the mail, that perhaps "the baby" was inside that package! I waited impatiently for Mom to open it, and was incredibly disappointed to see that the big box, so full of promise, held nothing more than a very ordinary, oversized, dark blue and white, speckled enamel roasting pan. As Mom sat in the kitchen, with the roasting pan on her lap, I urged her to put the lid on, and then take it off again, quickly, convinced, if she’d just do that, that "the baby" would magically appear. In late pregnancy, Mom was in no mood to humor me. I managed to try it myself, several times, later that afternoon, only to discover it didn’t work for me either.
Three weeks later, I was quite upset when I woke one morning and found that Mom was gone. Dad said she’d gone to the hospital "to have the baby". In an attempt to amuse me and perhaps distract me from missing her so much, he took me to a neighbor’s farm, where I was allowed to help bottle feed some baby lambs. I still remember the thrill of feeling a baby lamb tugging hard at the bottle I was holding, but I also remember the awful hives that began to erupt almost immediately after I'd touched their fluffy coats. In a short time, I was covered in eczema. Coincidentally, I lost most of my hair. Poor Mom. When she came home from the hospital, I was almost bald, and covered in an oozing red rash.
After what seemed like forever, but in fact was probably about a week, Mom came home. You were in her arms, but I couldn't see you because you were completely and tidily wrapped up against the winter cold in a soft blue baby blanket. Mom walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where she laid you down in your bed: a big dresser drawer lined with an old quilt. She got you settled there, then she called me to come see you.
I heard you before I saw you: you were making throaty little snuffling sounds. Curious, I knelt on my knees beside the drawer, and bent over the edge to see you up close. My first impression was that you smelled great. Also, you were very pink. You were still swaddled up in that soft blue blanket. The satin edge was cool, and wonderfully smooth to touch, and I felt a wave of envy, running my fingertips lightly over the edge of that lush blanket.
Then I saw that you were looking right at me, staring intently, and I was transfixed. As you studied me with your big baby blues, Mom told me to hold out a finger. She said that you’d grab it if I did. I didn’t believe her, so I pointed a finger and held it in the air in front of you, right above your tightly closed fist, just to prove her wrong. Mom said, "Touch his hand," and I did...to my surprise, your fist flew open. For a moment, your fingers waved dreamily, randomly, like the tentacles on an anemone...but the moment your fingers touched mine, you grabbed on, curling your entire hand tightly around my finger, and holding fast, with a grip like a vice. I laughed out loud, surprised and happy at the magic of that contact, of that moment...
...this is your brand new brother...
Happy Birthday, Dave
Friday, February 24, 2006
Scalzi's Friday Frivolity Part IV: Train Cake
John's question: Have you ever gotten ambitious with a cake? Do you have photographic evidence? If so, you should post it and leave a link.
This is the Train Cake that I baked for Mike & Chris for their 3rd birthday and, because they liked it so much they requested it again, also their 4th birthday. I baked the cake in small loaf pans to make each of the cars, and I made the train with two engines, because each boy wanted an engine (of course). I used non-pareils for the wheels and licorice for the tracks, and although I've made a lot of interesting birthday cakes over the years, this was hands down the boys' favorite cake, ever.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Happy Birthday Alexander!
Happy 3rd birthday, Alexander! Your actual birthday is tomorrow, of course, but as that's a workday, your Mom and Dad gave you a party today. How well I remember the day you were born; I was there for your birth, and I sent a letter to friends and family telling them about it afterward. Here's what I wrote, 3 years ago tomorrow: A note to everyone on this wonderful day...
Katharine and Brenden arrived at Denton Regional Hospital last night so Katharine could be induced. It was the day after her due date, and her induction was because of her complication of kidney stones. Mike and Chris and I drove up at about 9:00 PM. Kelly (Brenden's Dad) got there at about 10:30 and at about midnight Anthony arrived, having driven straight there after leaving Denver at noon yesterday. We had a very festive atmosphere in the birthing suite, calling Alex in Chicago, so all of us were there for Kath and Brenden.
At a little after 11:00 we all briefly left the room so that a nurse could give Kath some medication that resulted in mild contractions all night. Anthony went back to Dallas to sleep, Kelly went to Brenden & Kath's house to try (unsuccessfully, I think) to sleep, and the boys went out to their car, in the hospital parking lot, to sleep.
I slept in my car in the hospital parking lot for a couple of hours (quite comfortably) but went back upstairs at about 5 AM Thursday morning. Katharine and Brenden had gotten a little sleep, but both were awake then and Kath asked me to rub her back. Brenden stretched out on the fold-up bed in the room to get a little sleep. Eventually Kath asked if I'd mind just snuggling up with her and trying to get a little sleep. Would I mind? 
I was curled up in bed with her and we were all sound asleep at about 8:00 AM when her doctor came in to check on her. He quipped "I know we have a bed shortage, but this is ridiculous!" He examined her and then broke her bag of waters to move labor along, before leaving for his office.
In a very short time, labor began in earnest. Katharine had a little period of time then where it was pretty hard, and she sent everyone out of the room except me. For much of it I just held her, forehead to forehead, talking her through the contractions. They were strong and hard and close together, and she got sick, but we got through that, and then, right after that, everything began to happen pretty quickly.
I was sitting with her and Brenden had just come back into the room when she became very irritable. I recognize transition when I see it, although I couldn't quite believe it had happened so quickly. I left Brenden with her and hurried to the nurse's station and asked for someone to come examine her. I said she was in transition, but I don't think anyone believed me. A nurse we hadn't met examined her, because Kath's nurse had gone downstairs to eat breakfast. The unknown nurse announced Kath was at 8 centimeters, and left the room. Within a few minutes Katharine said she had to push. I told her not to push until she'd been examined once more, and I ran back out to the front desk to ask where her nurse and the doctor were. There was no time for an epidural, although at 4 cm the nurse had given her a little demerol-like stuff in her iv that she hated because it did nothing for the pain, just made her loopy. The front desk phoned her doctor and asked him to come over stat, and her nurse hurried into the room, examined her, and gave her the go-ahead to start pushing. She had gone from 4 cm to 10 cm in about 45 minutes.
I went to the foot of the bed then and held her feet, putting all of my weight into it, so she could push against my hands. With each push, I could see Alexander's head bulging her perineum until his head began to crown, and after that, with each push, I was able to see the top of his head. What an incredible thrill! She had about 20 minutes of pushing altogether, and then her doctor arrived and I moved out of the way so he could catch. At the very last minute he did an episiotomy.
Alexander burst into the world at exactly 11:00 AM on August 29, 2002. The cord was wrapped 3 times around his neck but clearly not causing a problem as he began to cry, loudly and lustily, almost immediately. Brenden cut the cord and Alexander was measured: birthweight 8 lbs. 9oz, length 20", head circumference 14 1/2", chest circumference 13 1/2", Apgars 9/9.
To see a child born is a beautiful, joyous, humbling experience, but to see one's grandchild come into this world...AMAZING!!! I was quite overcome, and wept (very happily!). Mike, Chris & Kelly had been pacing in the hallway. They came into the room within about 5 minutes of Alexander's being born. Kelly held Alexander and wept. We called Alex in Chicago, and I held the phone next to Alexander as he cried so Alex could hear him. We all talked to Alex, and the boys were amazed by the whole thing, but spent a lot of time turning to the wall as Kath began the business of establishing breastfeeding.
At about 12:30, Anthony came into the room. He kissed Kath, hugged Brenden, held Alexander, and wept. All in all, a pretty emotional experience! We got Katharine and Brenden and Alexander settled in, and then we left. Kelly drove back to his place to take care of his chocolate lab, Jane Doe. Anthony and the boys and I had lunch together, and then we all drove back to Dallas, where all of us went to bed and slept soundly.
This evening, I picked up Anthony and we went up and saw them again. Everyone is well, and Anthony and I took turns holding Alexanderand then I rocked him to sleep while Katharine and Brenden ate their dinner. He snuggled up under my chin and made little throaty, snuffly baby sounds (heaven!). They get released tomorrow. I'll be up there tomorrow night and whenever she needs me for the next several days. More later, but wow, am I happy. And he smells WONDERFUL!
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