Happy Birthday to My Big Two-Year-Old
Two years ago at this very moment, I’d been experiencing contractions for roughly 24 hours. Little did I know, I was still far from done. They would strap on the oxygen. They would try the vacuum not once, not twice, but three times—unsuccessfully. They would coach me through four hours of pushing, and even hang a little jungle gym-type setup over my hospital bed to help. They would quietly give in and summon back-up, declaring it c-section time. Then, finally, before back-up could arrive, my son would enter the world, wide-eyed and calmly alert from the very beginning.
We threw his big birthday bash last Saturday. To ensure he’d nap, we kept it a secret. (We learned our lesson after having to tackle Christmas Eve napless due to excitement.) Once he woke up, people started arriving, and he just could not believe it. Grandma & Papa Buckner drove up from Iowa, and his Birthday Brother Vincent drove down from Duluth. (Happy birthday today, too, little Vinny!). Plenty more grandmas and papas and aunties and uncles and friends filled the house.
We had pizza and corn on the cob (for some reason, that’s all the kid wanted for his birthday—corn on the cob) and cupcakes. Being the center of attention during the birthday song really isn’t his bag. He’d rather run around getting one-on-one time with all his favorite peeps. Which he did, happily, until everyone went home. Every day since, he’s talked about all the great people who came to his party. That, and the corn on the cob.
Today, on his actual birthday, he’s having cupcakes at daycare with his friends. We’ve got a few presents to open tonight, and we’ll do a repeat of his birthday party meal, from cupcake to corn. I’m sure we’ll cap it off with a bubble bath. Maybe an extra book or two at bedtime. Kickin’ it two-year-old style.
Dinner will unfold at about the same time, two years ago, that I finally held him and instantly knew that the previous 30-some hours were completely worth it. Worth him—my sweet, easygoing little hugger, bookworm, truck aficionado and corn-on-the-cob lover. My sweet little baby boy.
I love you so much, Roy. More than you’ll ever know.
(P.S. I’m still pregnant.)
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