Sunday, March 04, 2012

An Unusual Week for An Unusual Boy


Eight years ago, our first child decided he wanted to be born two weeks early.  We were woefully unprepared.  The Money Pit house would not be completed for another six weeks, which meant we were bringing our little boy home from the hospital to the ancient little trailer we were living in during the renovation.  The delays on the house also meant that I had delayed purchasing a new (used) car because I am allergic to making too many financial decisions at one time.  This particular issue was a big one.  My beloved CRX did not have a backseat.

I had contractions on and off all that day, and I was absurdly active from dawn to dusk.  We ate dinner that evening, and settled in to watch a movie (I wish I remembered which one), but before the first preview was over, I doubled over with my first Very Real Contraction.  When it passed, I shrugged and reached for a doughnut.  Within minutes, another Very Real Contraction came.  The Carnivore looked at me.  I stared blankly back at him.

After the next Very Real Contraction, we began to time them, watching in disbelief as we began to fill the page with times that were consistently within five minutes of each other.  We called the doctor, told him how closely the contractions were coming, and he said to head to the hospital immediately.

We argued with him, of course.  We still had two weeks to go, you see.  And it was late evening on February 28, and the following day was February 29, and we couldn't possibly have this baby on Leap Day.  Besides, they were probably just going to send us home after a few hours and tell us it was false labor, right?  RIGHT?

The doctor laughed.  "You're having this baby, tonight," he said.  "It's time to come to the hospital now."

The Carnivore looked at me.  Again, I stared blankly back at him, before doubling over with another Very Real, Very Painful Contraction.  "I haven't packed yet," I cried.  "We haven't bought a bigger car yet," I whimpered.

"I'M NOT READY," I yelled.

I called my mother.  "But America's Most Wanted is about to come on," she complained.  "Besides, first babies never come early."

Princess of Denial, allow me to introduce you to your mother, The Queen of Denial.

The Boy Wonder was born in the early morning hours of February 29, 2004, and this week, he officially turned two.  He is an unusual child, with an unusual birthday, and we celebrated him all week long.  In an unusual fashion, of course.


Create-a-Face pancakes for breakfast, with puddles of artificially-colored and artificially-flavored strawberry syrup?  Yes.


A drizzly day ambling slowly through our small local zoo, hooting like an owl?  Yes.


Time to dawdle and watch the ducks?  Yes.


Time to dawdle with the ducks?  Yes.


Ice cream for lunch?  Yes.


A giant chocolate cake with creme de menthe buttercream and chocolate buttercream, topped with mini chocolate chips, and matching cupcakes?  Yes.


A birthday party at the Nature Center where you can pet snakes and go on a nature walk and introduce your friends and cousins to one of your very favorite places on earth?  Yes, yes, and yes.

Happy Birthday, my dear funny little son.  Thank you for keeping us on our toes from the very beginning.  Thank you for being patient while we learned how to be parents.  Thank you for being you.   "Today you are You, that is truer than true.  There is no one alive who is Youer than You."  

2 comments:

Marcy said...

Happy birthday to your "two yr old"!!! He is one very handsome toddler, I must say. How fun to celebrate on Leap Year, though it must stink on other years. I love your blog. Keep it up!

Michele said...

Beautiful post!