The First Quarter

Well, you'd think, with two weeks off work I'd have time to get to this little site here and throw some cute little shenanigans at you wouldn't you? I thought so too. So much that I even mentioned this blog in my Christmas card this year. Oops.

Speaking of late... (we were, weren't we?) It's 11pm and since a little missy was born at 10:35 pm on January 3, 1984, it's not really late, but as it's nearly midnight, signaling the 4th of January and a different child's birthday; this post feels late.

Twenty-five years ago... it seems so long ago, and yet perhaps it was yesterday. This was before it was de rigueur to know your unborn child's sex and name. I had a newly 3 year old boy who I was convinced would be a girl before I heard "it's a boy" and went into momentary shock. I was not going to be unprepared this time. I thought it would be awfully nice to have a girl, but another boy would be fine too. In fact - I was pretty sure I'd be handing down clothes and toys to our second son anytime. I'd been on bedrest for a couple of weeks before Christmas, and was just released to "light activity". I'd had a doctor appointment that day and stopped at Venture (the local Target) for a few things before going home. I had collected several items when I started feeling some pretty strong contractions. I figured I could just finish grabbing a few more things and then head home to wait it out there. I never got to the checkout. Fast and furious this baby wanted out. I was only at 37 weeks, so I was not in as much of a hurry. Besides, I'd just slipped on some ice and fell HARD on New Year's Eve, so I wasn't very comfortable to begin with. I'm pretty sure a broken coccyx (look it up) was involved. I wanted some healing time before having to use that part of my anatomy for childbirth. OK - it's not really involved, but let me tell you sitting after childbirth is not all that fun, and if you add the tailbone aspect to it (ok you don't have to look it up anymore), it's that much less comfortable.

Anyhooo, leaving the 1/2 full cart in the middle of an aisle (sorry Venture staff), I hustled myself and my toddler out to the car and drove home. We didn't have cell phones, so it was all up to me and it never occurred to me that maybe I shouldn't have been driving with contractions coming at me that frequently. I called DH from home and told him he'd better come home RIGHT AFTER WORK because I was pretty sure I'd need to go to the hospital tonight. He did, we dropped toddler off at a neighbor's house and off we went. Got there about 7pm or so and had a baby at 10:35. Went home the next day and started pacing the floors with a screaming baby.

She was my first experience at colic. She was also my headstrong "I'll do it MYSELF" girl, making every excursion much, much longer since she had to get her own snowsuit on. Or her own shoes. Or her own anything. And THEN she'd have to go to the bathroom. AAAAAAAAAHHHH!

She delighted us with songs at an early age. She still does. She embarassed us when we flew with her because we were poor (and cheap) and did not want to buy an extra ticket for her. She was 18 months old, potty trained and speaking in full sentences. She was also not terribly tiny. The flight attendents were understandably suspicious, and we felt like we should travel with her birth certificate so they'd know we weren't cheating.

She was bright, eager to please, eager to have fun, always had a couple handfuls of friends, but she was always true to herself. She's had a rivalry or two along the way, making things interesting and a little uncomfortable at times. But she's never done something because it's the easy thing. She's made deliberate choices and they've always made us proud. It's been such fun watching her grow from a headstrong baby to a lovely independent woman who is an incredible daughter, sister, friend and aunt and is a quarter of a century old today.

Happy Birthday, DDD. Love you SOOOO MUCH!

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