Well this absolutely gorgeous day finds me feeling nostalgic and I dare say even a little sad, although joyous and full of wonder.
Where has all the time gone?
Today is my son Brian's 21st birthday - my first child has reached another milestone in his life and gratefully, I am here to witness it, share in it, revel in it.
He is legal drinking age, oh my...
And again, because repeating myself seems necessary, where has all the time gone?
Last night, I diced onion, peppers and garlic and turned on the ole crock part to get a good red sauce slow cooking. I whipped up some chocolate death cake and made the most amazing (holy delicious) chocolate frosting - I started all the necessary components for his requested birthday dinner - Mom's meatballs, a big ass pan of baked ziti, salad and the yummy garlic bread with the garlic cloves baked right in and of course, a bottle of red wine to accompany and enhance all the flavors.
It is a tradition in our family that you get what you want on your birthday - you call all the shots.
Speaking of shots.... After I cleaned up my kitchen mess, I got down the shot glasses, dusted them off and prepared them for a midnight shot of tequila. To me, that seemed like the only right thing to do for this right of passage. I waited....Tired with dark circles under my eyes, for the stroke of Midnight.
It was something else, I tell ya, throwing back the first legal shot.
It made me smile from ear to ear to be the one to have the honor.
And, I will be honest, a little sad too.
It's hard to watch your kids grow up - as cool as it is, as wonderful as each milestone is - it is still at the bare bones, hard.
They get older and you lose the children they once were to your memories and old photographs....
The thing about my son Brian, is that he is the kid that really changed my life.
I was in a whole lot of darkness before he came - Omar's death and my own family problems had really shut out the light for me and I was hopeless that I would ever know love again, love of any kind.
I was nineteen when he was born, a month and a half shy of my own twentieth birthday - crazy looking back, I was a baby myself preparing to have a baby.
I was excited and scared, naive really in both regards - you have no idea what it is to have a child - the concept in thought, is entirely unprepared for the realities involved. It is beyond what I think I can ever accurately express with the confines of words.
I remember the night he was born as if it were yesterday - it was long and arduous and painful - I went the natural route, I was young "woman hear me roar"...
The intense contractions were hard as hell and came literally right on top of one another for what seemed like all my damn life - I actually forgot, while in labor, a pre-labor physicality...I wanted at several points during his birth process to die myself - give up and go back to bed.
In fact, I remember very clearly, telling my wonderful nurse Debbie (right?) that I was "through with this" - "so not doing this" - "yeah no, I have definitely changed my mind" - I can see my bloated young self, getting up from the hospital bed in my johnny with my big ass hanging out the back, going into the bathroom to retrieve my own clothes and to go the hell home....
Yeah that lasted all of three minutes til the next contraction hit, I instinctively squatted like a sumo wrestler gripping the metal rail that lined the room, face turning beat red while moaning into the core splitting pain and attempting to take in air...
Okay, so I am not going home, fine...
My lovely nurse, who saved me from insanity that night, decided I was a water type and carted me off to the "water labor room" that was tiled from ceiling to floor, had huge open shower stalls and cubicle tubs with benches inside. We tried the shower first, butt naked, forehead to the tile, while she hosed my lower back with a steady stream, felt good but I wanted to sit and rock back and forth - standing when you feel like your insides are falling out, definitely lets gravity do it's thing, but can get a little intimidating,as with each contraction your vagina feels more like a vacuum cleaner in reverse - kinda scary when you are 19.
The room was dimly lit and there was a stereo going, we had it tuned to a classic rock station and I sang with gusto in between contractions as the blue cube tub, filled up around me. I remember some Queen, some Led Zep, definitely Clapton and positively my favorite Aerosmith.
I worked hard in between singing, rocking to the front of the tub as the contraction peaked, arms over the front, back in a steep curve, moaning and concentrating all my effort on not dying from the pain.
I leaned back after it peaked, rested and as the night wore on, actually began to fall asleep in between contractions from the sheer exhaustion of the pain. Funny how pain gets you like that, kicks your ass so bad, the body knows to shut down and reserve strength during the brief reprieve.
Then the beginning chords to the Eagles Hotel California strummed from the speakers and something different began to happen to my body. Suddenly the pain felt like it had purpose and every muscle in my body tensed beyond my control or doing....I pushed hard, starting at my scalp and finishing up all the way at my wrinkled up pruney looking water logged toes....Debbie asked "Hey what are you doing?" - "Are you pushing"
Welcome to the hotel California, such a lovely place....We're livin' it up at the hotel California....
"Jesus", she said as she reached down in between my legs, "that is definitely the head"
I pushed and pushed as she yelled "don't push, small breaths heeheehee"
I pushed and pushed and pushed.
Thing was, I wasn't prepped for a water birth - I have to be honest, a human exiting your vagina is not really a 'hold on, gotta wait' kind of moment....
Debbie and another nurse, pulled me from the tub dripping wet and walked me quickly the twenty steps to labor room #5 where I proceeded to lay sideways across the bed and push out my sons head straight through the vaginal ring of fire....
And so my life changed - just like that.
The doctor plopped him on my chest all swaddled up but still gooey, he cried that newborn cry until I spoke to him "Hi baby" and kissed him all over his sweet little face.
Brian, my adult hairy man child - was my smallest baby at birth, 6 pounds 14 ounces. He was bald less the super light blonde peach fuzz and so beautiful at birth that it literally took what breath I had left away as I stared at him, looking at his lashes, his lips, his eyes, in nothing short of miraculous wonder.
Crazy how transforming giving birth is - everything you think you know, is suddenly altered, as this little bundle in your arms takes precedence over everything you ever thought was important about yourself and your existence.
He did that for me. Came out of the darkness of my womb, a light in his own right, my light, our two darkness' dissipated in unison.
Kinda like we were born together.
All these years later, I tear up to remember that night. I tear up to feel my love for him swell so strong in my chest, tear up for the 21 years worth of memories he has given me.
Because he was my first child and a boy, he obviously had to have a good strong Irish name, Brian Patrick. Patrick is his great Grandfather's middle name, my only daughter Emma's middle name is Claire, for her Great Grandmother.
Tradition, family and heritage all so important to me - I think my Papa was quite thrilled to have his first great grandchild named for him - I wish he were here to have a nip of jameson with us on this great day, sigh - I digress.
I am grateful beyond words to have so many kids. It means I have a beyond full life.
I bitch a lot about never having time to myself, running my ass off 24/7 - but don't be fooled - I would have it NO other way.
My kids are my joy, point and fact.
I love them all, but Brian, well he was my first...
He was my light.
No one can ever touch that moment in my life - no one.
And so....This milestone is bitter sweet - I miss my baby boy. But, my adult son is hilarious and kind and good. I miss our cuddles and power rangers on Saturday mornings. But, my adult son can now accompany me on karaoke night.
Time changes everything EXCEPT the love of a Mother for her child.
Sigh.
What comes next? College graduations, marriage, Grand Mother-hood? (Um yeah and in this order please kids...)
Talk about milestones - geez....
I better invest in kleenex stock, I have a lot of kids, means like today, a lot of happy/sad tears to come.
Bring em on....
Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more,
you are all I long for, all I worship and adore,
in other words, please be true, in other words....
I love you.
Happy Birthday Baby Boy - Momma loves you.
sniff sniff.
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