Is it cliched to say how it seems like only yesterday that we were driving to the hospital in Maplewood, Minnesota during a March snowstorm? It couldn't have been eight whole years ago that the nurse wouldn't let me have an epidural until--whoopsie!--I was eight centimeters dilated and the mean sixty-ish Asian female anesthesiologist couldn't get the needle in the right spot on my back and during her fourth attempt yelled at me, "Stop crying!" while I was balled up on the edge of the bed in the middle of a killer transition contraction and Forrest said, "She can cry if she wants to!" and I would have kissed him right there if I wasn't so sure I might pass out any second?
And the little baby boy who joined our family that day--the 8 lb. 3 oz. kid with the Hallstrom nostrils who didn't cry after he was born but instead looked around quietly (which freaked me out, but of course I always need at least a half dozen things to worry over and then Google and then wish I hadn't Googled for the first two months after giving birth)--has grown into this:
The kid loves a good chocolate cupcake. And doesn't he look handsome with a nice short haircut?
We had a party for him on Friday. A smallish party where we invited a few friends from the neighborhood, ate pizza, had cupcakes, then headed out to the Nickelcade--a total dive, but the kids love it and lots of the games are still only a nickel. And I figure if the kids are going to run around screaming they might as well do it where their screams are muffled by the sounds of electronic "Deal or No Deal," ski-ball, and 14 year olds banging their palms against violent first-person military shooter games.
And can I say that after recently having a party for my dear 11-year-old daughter that the differences between males and females are starkly clear once you gather them together in a room and let them loose?
Girls (sitting quietly watching Elise open presents, one by one, murmuring approval):
Boys (in the one and only picture I have of all of them together, because in the other shots I attempted somebody either skidded across the floor and fell down, or put his hands over another kid's eyes, etc etc.)
That's not to say the girls weren't silly as all get out at their party. Oh, there was all kinds of silliness. But in the car on the way to Elise's movie the girls were talking about Twilight and school and whether or not they should go to Claire's to buy earrings afterward. Here's some of the dialogue I remember from the trip the the Nickelcade:
"I wonder what would happen if I put my butt in a time machine?"
"What if I chopped of your head and threw it out the window?" (This was not meant as an insult).
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Spell I-Cup! Spell I-Cup!" [speller spells I-Cup] [raucous laughter].
Etc.
They're all good boys--they even decided, on their own, to pool all the tickets they earned at the Nickelcade and split the total six ways so everybody would get a good prize, which I thought was impressive. But man! Boys are boys. (And woman! Girls are girls.)
On a related birthday note, today was Forrest's 38th birthday. He told me not to buy him anything. This is one evidence of how the recession is ravaging our household, as is Forrest's recent purchase of Electrosol dishwashing detergent (Cascade?? Hello?? What is this, the Great Depression?) and Western Family brand everything. Western Family cooking spray (oh, Pam, where art thou?), Western Family cream cheese, Western Family dryer sheets, Western Family cream of chicken soup.
When he starts buying me Western Family Diet Cola, the end is near.
At any rate, he insisted that he didn't want anything for his birthday but to not be in debt anymore--oh, how I wish I could get him THAT--so I didn't get him anything. I wrote him a card (I'm not heartless, now) but didn't buy him a present, and now I feel like the lamest wife ever. He keeps saying that he really really didn't want anything, but now I'm convinced that no matter what he says I'm going to always have to get him a birthday present because I can't stand feeling like such a slacker.
Cause it's all about me, you know. Ah, I'm a joy to be married to, I'm sure. Don't buy you anything AND subject you to wheedling questions about whether or not you really really REALLY didn't want anything for your birthday in order to assuage my guilt.
Love you, though. Hopefully that helps. (It does, right??)
5 comments:
Of course it does.
But if you're still feeling guilty you can always bring the whole family to our condo and watch all three hours of "King Lear".
As the Beatles once said, " Love is all you need." Plus, like the Beatles, whenever I really want something I buy it for myself so I'm good.
And as far as the birth of Jonas Leo goes, that was a good one. It was a little dicey for the first day when we were thinking about naming him Zedekiah or whatever but once I brought you back some Panera for lunch we came to our senses and went with Jonas.
Finally, in my defense, I am very careful and practical about when I decide to go with the Western Family brand. The cream cheese and dryer sheets are made at the same factory as the name brands, (trust me I've seen it with my own eyes), and the cream of chicken soup is for "the End of Days."
And won't that be funny when it's day 100 of "the End of Days" and it's lunch time and I make the same joke I've made for the last 99 days about how the rest of the family is having Western Family soup but that I'm not sure what name brand foods we have left for you to eat???
I can see it now. Then for my 39th birthday you'll dig up a spot in the corner of the yard and present me with the best birthday gift ever; a Cherry Coke Zero. Best Armageddon birthday ever.
Forrest
Wow. I think you are all a little end-of-days obsessed! This isn't the first I have read of that. Anyhow, Stockton has been asking about Jonas and when we will ever see him again. I used the "we really only see them about once a year" and the bright kid has figured that our year is more than up(and how pathetice is that when we live so close?). He was just asking me about it again today. That kid must have made quite an impression on him. Happy Birthday Jonas and we need to get together, maybe sometime after baseball season.
Happy Birthday guys! Whenever I see a group of 8 year old boys together I think "will my sweet little 3 year old boy really be saying 'Spell I-Cup' one day?" Yes, he will. And he'll laugh and think he's hilarious. And hopefully he'll be as cute and fun as Jonas Leo when he does.
I love hearing your labor stories. I know I heard about it when I was 18 and it actually happened, but they mean so much more to me now. I can't believe the anesthesiologist said that to you!
I am now going to go take a look at my food storage. If you guys are buying Western Family brand then the end must be near. Even I have Pam.
Oh the Pamness! I made waffles Monday night and was in the midst of waffle-sticking affliction and asked Dennis to get the Pam out of the cupboard and he said, "do you mean the Western Family fat free vegetable oil spray?" and I thought, "I bought Western Family cooking oil spray?" and then you write about Forrest buying it too. It is the end of days. Naw, it won't be until Forrest buys Western Family ice cream. Forrest's high-end tastes and salesmanship have cost me hundreds of dollars ever since he introduced me to the delights of Dryers and Bryers and all sorts of "ayers" that obviously are made from far superior ingredients that we were used to eating when I bought Western-Family neopolitan (right up there with Aqua Net hair spray). And baby Jonas Leo - I'll never forget you guys faxed a picture of him to my office- he was just minutes old - I still have it folded in fourths in my drawer at work - I remember gazing at his glorious little self and looking at his beautiful sweet back of the head mullett (I think he's the hairest Sweat grandchild which isn't saying a whole lot considering we're pretty much 0 for 14 in the full heads of hair at birth department). But as Aunt Julie said, bald babies are so well groomed!
XO
Grandma Sweat
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