Two

I now have a two year old.

Not a baby.

A toddler.

A little boy.

For so long, I have referred to Liam as "the baby" to my husband, family and friends. Obviously, that is because he is my baby, my youngest. Yesterday, though, as we celebrated his birthday, I looked at him and saw not a baby but (gulp) a boy.

He has a little boy haircut.

He likes cars, trains and balls.

He practices burping and says "poopy" when he, er, passes gas.

Yes, this baby I am raising has turned into a boy.

I'm not sure I am ready to bid farewell to those baby days just yet.

So, as his vocabulary explodes and potty training looms, I relish the fact that he still goes "night, night" with a blue satin blankie and prefers to be rocked by me. I will sniff a little deeper and longer when I catch a whiff of Dreft on his jammies. I am going to lap up every bit of this time I have left when the baby is still visible in this two year old boy.

Nine

Nine years ago today, my daughter entered the world.

After nearly three full days of trying to trick my body into having her the "old-fashioned way", I relented to a c-section.

We didn't click for some time, my daughter and I. I suppose at some level, I resented this little creature who had put me through such a difficult birth. My husband stepped in and bonded with her while I tried to push through the haze of new motherhood and depression to find my place.

Eventually, though, I fell in love with her and she with me. And I have thanked all that is good and holy for giving her to me each day since.

Today, she is nine.

Happy Birthday, my darling Claire....

A Birthday Post

My husband was adopted.

His mother relinquished her parental rights to him just hours after he was born 36 years ago today.

He was placed into the foster care system for about three weeks and, then, went to live with the people who raised him: his mom and dad.

His biological mother was 18 or 19 and had black hair, as does my husband. We know a few things about her like this from "non-identifying" information that the state of Ohio allows adoptees access to. His father was a brick mason, as was his father, and was 23 years old. They lived in a town in northwestern Ohio that neighbors where my husband was raised.

It haunts me that out there, somewhere, is a family that my husband never met. He could have brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews. There may be oodles of aunts and uncles who share the same black hair and dimpled right cheek that he and my son have.

His childhood was good. His parents loved and cared for him. He traveled and played an instrument in the band. He has no burning innate desire to seek out this unknown family.

I do, though. I would like to hug the woman who birthed my husband. I would like to her to see him and know that he did okay. I would like her to know that she made a good choice because she did. She really did.

I would like to tell her that on this day, his birthday, he is happy and surrounded by those that love him. I would like to tell her that he is loved and holds no ill will for her, although his feelings towards her are so confusing and muddled.

So, on this day, which is a happy day in our household, I always find myself wondering what that woman, once a young girl, must feel. My heart aches a little for her and the loss that she probably feels on this day.

Thank you to the woman who chose to bring my husband into this world and make a choice to provide him with a life and home that she was unable to. I would like to thank her for her unselfish and brave actions.

May this "birth-day" be just a little sweeter for her.....




Happy Birthday, RxMan!

Birthdays & Wiidowhood

My birthday was Saturday and it was a good day.

I got presents (earrings, a Pandora bracelet and charms, gift cards).

I got cake.



And, most importantly, I got my hair colored. (Just because I am eeking up on middle age doesn't mean I have to be sporting the gray, y'know.)

It was a pretty good day. Thanks to all you wonderful blog friends for your birthday wishes; you girls rock! (:

In other news, the Wii is set up.

And I am a Wiidow.

It's true.

My husband was up at 5! AM! Saturday morning playing Wii.

He and my daughter played before church on Sunday, after church and I had to physically remove the nunchucks and controllers from their hands last night before I tucked them in.

Of course, this morning both the big boy and the little girl woke up with Wii tennis elbow and numerous other Wii-induced aches and pains. Ibuprofen was passed out all around.

They are both on Wii time outs until their current disabilities heal up because work and school must come before Wii playing. (Man, am I a witch, or what?)

Also, my house pretty much finished the trip to Disasterville thanks to that little machine.

I am already wondering why I invited it into my home....*sigh*

Haiku Friday: Birthday Edition!

Three decades plus three
After thirty two hours
I entered world

Nineteen inches long
Weighing 7lbs. and 8
My parents so proud

My birthday is on
Saturday! Oh, happy day!
I'll be thirty-three

Num-nums!

Okay, I am too tired to give you a blow by blow (get it? cake, candles?) of my son's first birthday. Unlike New Year's Day, it was a regular, run of the mill first party for a too! cute! (if I do say so myself) baby (toddler? sniff). The boy got to have cake for the first time. I think he liked it, don't you? It was a good day...

Cake

Smash Cake

Flaming! Chocolate! Cake!

Sugar Rush

Impending Birthday

When I was a little girl, birthday parties typically consisted of my mom baking a cake and an assortment of aunts, uncles and cousins descending on our home with gifts or, as I got older, cards with some cash in them. Well, as any of you who have children old enough to have "friend" parties know, birthdays have turned into an extravaganza in many cases.

I don't really know why this has happened but it has. I think parents are to blame because, really, most little kids are satisfied with so very little. Do we try to live vicariously through our children by creating these lavish parties? Or, are we just in pissing contests with the other parents we know, trying to show what we have? That is more my theory and, believe me, I am as guilty as the next person at partaking in this overblown birthday bonanza business. Not to mention the fact that parties are time-consuming, expensive and, well, a pain in the arse.

We only had family parties until Her Highness turned five and then we had her first "real" party. Because she has a December birthday, we rented a local gymnasium and an inflatable slide. We invited all the children in the world that we knew in order to justify this expense. It was a hit! The following year, I organized a Princess Party for about eight six year-olds in which they all came dressed in costume and ate finger foods and crafted. Last year, we took about 15 kids bowling.

This year, however, I am scaling back. Way back. We are inviting cousins and the neighbors. And that is it. Nothing too fancy compared to many of the parties Her Highness has attended in the last year. One party she went to involved a trip to the salon, movies and dinner out at a steak place. She got her nails done and an up 'do. Another time she was taken to Build-A-Bear and lunch. All great parties but at some point the line has to be drawn. I am drawing it here and now. This year, we are having cake, food and a craft; maybe some karaoke because our theme, after all, is Hannah Montana.

With HH's birthday falling only sixteen days before Christmas, I have always struggled with inviting people to parties because of the financial crunch so many experience at this time of year. I have tried the "no gifts" strategy but it was unsuccessful, as I was certain it would be. (There is no way I could attend or send my child to a party without a gift.) And this year, with gas prices what they are and the economy in my area so sluggish, I just couldn't ask another person to bring a present to my daughter who is in need of absolutely nothing but some new socks.

So, I am going against the grain. Being a rebel. I will not be inviting your kid to my kid's party. Don't worry. We have lots of Barbies, too many Bratz and oodles of Littlest Pet Shops. You, dear friends, are off the hook this year. Take your money and buy a gift for a needy child because the kid who lives with me is far, far from needy.