An Ode to My Man

You don’t have to be around me long to know that I am shameless about my affection for my husband. Since today is his birthday, I might have to get a little mushy about him! We celebrate twice in August for birthdays (mine and N’s), then we roll right on after Christmas, New Year’s, Ted’s birthday, then six days later is A’s. Whew! Sometimes I would buy double at Christmas to avoid shopping twice for them.

But back to the birthday today—it often seems excessive to celebrate right after so much holiday has just happened, but his birthday is most important and he is so easy to please. Besides, everybody needs his own day, no matter when it falls!! On his first birthday after we were married, I was challenged by the fact that we were traveling (to another wedding) and he needed a birthday cake. I finally came up with a cookie cake, which I slipped under my seat of the car. I got to surprise him with that at a hotel in Shreveport, Louisiana. He has wanted a cookie cake ever since, so a tradition began on that road trip. (Today’s cookie is homemade and decorated a little crookedly.)

The ode: My man is a good man. He so often gives me far more grace than I deserve. He is sweeter than I can describe and loves us all unconditionally. I want to be like him when I grow up! So thankful he has been in my life for a long time. Happy Birthday to one great guy!

Too Much Birthday

I always remember the title of that Berenstein Bears book. It says it all around here these days. We have definitely been living in the wake of Too Much Birthday. I had one a few days ago and it was lovely and low key. That alone would have been plenty. However, there is no ignoring N’s b-day, and it closely follows mine. We had a big bash for him the day after mine, because we wanted to pack all the fun in before school started. He chose a sports theme, so we had a lively tailgating party. I had plenty o’ birthday sweets and dinner, and now all of his is still hanging around, too. We will also be celebrating out tonight, of course, because it is the Actual Birthday. Combined with his first day of the school year today, we are really overdosing on all the fun we can stand. We do this, oh, a week after Christmas, and a few days after that for the other two in our family. We just like to celebrate in a BIG way only a few times a year. ‘Cause we’re fun like that.

The Birthday

Having a child with a disability that is discovered at birth is . . . . to have a conflicted birthday. That day is the day your whole world changed. That day is the day that you found out that the child you expected would never arrive. That day is the day you grieved your heart out. To be expected to celebrate on that day (especially only one, two, or three years later), brings out an odd assortment of emotions.

There is gratitude that your child survived whatever medical issues that the diagnosis brought with it. There is relief that you survived the emotional trauma of it all. There is joy in the child and the milestones that he labored many times harder than others to achieve. There is hope for the future. Then there is the reality that that is THE day that rocked your world.

Gradually, beautifully, mercifully, though, that day becomes a true celebration. As my son has entered his teens, it is the day he looks forward to most throughout the year. He begins this forward-looking the next day following the birthday (after we have wrung out every possible cause for indulgence). “Next year, for my birthday lunch . . . .”, he will begin. And I just laugh out loud.

We do milk those birthdays for all they are worth, and sometimes the milking is for me. I decide that we all have reason to celebrate—that the sting of sadness is gone, that God has given me a gift I could not have dreamed up to save my poor little life, and that rejoicing in another year with this precious guy is indeed a privilege. His outlook is beautiful and so worth imitating. Yes, it was a hard day (and then some!), and those tears are saved in a divine bottle. But now, the birthday has become an occasion to revel in the wonder of his growth . . . and mine. Now I say to the birthday – BRING IT!