Eight years ago today, my sister gave me the most beautiful gift anyone has ever received. She held my hand, and gave birth to Ian James, the first baby I watched being born, the first minute old person I've held, and the first child that taught me about truly unconditional love.
I thought I understood all kinds of things, after all, I was twenty, almost twenty-one. But in those thirty seconds or so, between his arrival, and his first breath, I learned things that I'll never forget. I learned how quickly I can fall in love, and how fast my heart will try to bargain with God, when the one I love doesn't seem to be breathing. I learned that I'll never be able to repay my sister for making me an aunt, unless I'm able to make her one in return. And also, I learned that until I have a child of my own, I'll never understand the depth of my own mother's love.
One very small boy taught me that, all in the space of less than thirty seconds. And today is his birthday. He sent me an email, announcing that fact, and I told him, "Happy Birthday baby boy! I love you so much, and I'm so glad you're mine." He wrote back, "I got a skatboard." But my mother, who was helping him email me, told me that he looked up at her, after reading my words, and said, "I love being Tia's baby boy."
He's kind, generous and thoughtful beyond his years. Give him a dollar to spend at the dollar store, and without fail, he'll buy a gift for someone. He takes care of his younger sister even though she terrorizes him, and wants to teach his baby brother how to be just like him. He still wants to cuddle, even though he's too big for my lap, and he's quick to crack a joke that shows how smart he is, and how quick he catches on to humor.
I know it's still early to say such things, but I already know I'm going to be so proud of the man he becomes, even if I still call him my baby boy.
Have you ever met any celebrities? Any interesting stories?
Submitted by Tasha.
Joe and I were in line at McDonald's inside the MGM Grand hotel in Las Vegas. Just minding our own bidness. When a guy came up, followed by his large, black, body guard. I knew he was one of the Backstreet Boys, but I had no idea which one. I just looked at him, thought, "Wow, he's just a little guy." I knew that Joe had no idea who he was. Then, the Backstreet Boy started chatting up my husband. And before I could say, "Hey, wait a minute," Joe was letting him cut in front of us. What the heck! I was so mad. I mean, sure, he had a "Celebrity" golf tournament for charity to go to, but we had stuff to do too!
I was standing there, trying to smile politely, and I happened to look behind him, and saw a large group of thirteen-year-old girls running toward him, making surprisingly little noise. I was about to smile in anticipation of him getting rushed, and me and Joe getting our spot in line back, when suddenly, the bodyguard stepped between the Backstreet Boy and the mob of teenage girls, and crossed his arms and said, "Not. Today. Girls."
They instantly stopped their headlong rush into the Backstreet Boy, slumped their shoulders and put on their pouty faces en masse, and slunk away. The most interesting thing I've ever seen.
And that's my one brush with celebrity.
No, I can never give my pets normal names. What fun is that? This is Lupita of the Frozen Tundra.
Lupita, because we were watching "Man on Fire," the night we got her, and Frozen Tundra because we were right in the middle of this long ass cold snap here. (It was below 30 degrees for over two weeks. That's insane here. It snowed, and instead of melting the same day, it stayed for a week. Pure insanity! Joe missed a week of work because they wouldn't let them on the roads with all the ice and snow.) The good thing about Lupita as a name, is that it's shortened to Pita, which is also an acronym for Pain In The Ass. And a fitting acronym it is.
She's beautiful, and fun, and sleeps on my feet or my keyboard, whichever I'm feeling would be a better fit at the moment.
She's obsessed with the shower. The second she hears me slide the shower curtain open every morning, she comes running, and jumps up on the lip of the tub, so she can watch water droplets slide down the wall. I kid you not.
She has a pink collar, with plenty of bling bling, and pretty pink toes to match.
Yes, I'm just a little bit smitten, but I promise to not become one of those cat people. You know, the ones that carry a picture of their cat in their wallet? Okay, well, maybe I will do that, but come on, look at this face, who could resist?! And as a slight disclaimer on my part, I did recently get a brand new digital camera, and I can only take so many pictures of my own face.
Photo: Show us your tattoo(s).
Submitted by Megan.
When Ian first showed interest in it, he would press it, and run his little finger on it, and ask me what it said. I always told him, "It says, Tia Loves Ian." He would nod, smile, and go about his business. He was secure in his knowledge of my tattoo, and what it meant, and not surprised that I would mark myself so permanently for him.
Stella became interested in it around age two, and I held my breath, wondering when she would ask, and what I would say. I still hadn't decided what to say, the first time she asked. But whe
The next time he asked, because they always ask again, I told him the same thing I always had. That Tia Loves Ian. Because she does. And Tia Loves Stella. They've never questioned the fact that I only have one tattoo that says two different things. Maybe because even baby hearts understand complex things about love being simple. I can't wait for the first time Sid asks what it says. I'm hoping it will be this summer.
Sometimes, I'm such a child. I know this, I accept this, and I even embrace it. I think one of the saddest things that happens to most people, as they get older, is that they forget how to play. I refuse to be one of them.
Last summer, we went to the zoo. By we, I mean myself, Joe, mom, and all three of the kids. I can't remember where Tessa and Jody were, but I remember that they had asked me to watch the kids, and we decided to make an adventure out of it.
I live in the Pacific Northwest, and so when I say "zoo," a lot of the time, I'm talking about Northwest Trek. It's this wonderful place where animals native to this area are allowed to roam as free as they possibly can in a "zoo" setting. They have everything from bison, to pygmy rabbits. And it's amazing how they are kept, in such a natural setting. It's possibly the only zoo I've been to that doesn't make me sad.
It was a great day, the kids were darn near perfect, we laughed, we played, some of us even napped on the tram. Then, at the end of the day, Tia and Uncle Joe were going to be Big Spenders at the gift shop. Everyone got to pick whatever they wanted, mom and baby included. I was quite pleased when Sid instantly chose a plastic lizard under a dollar. The kids took forever to pick, but it was fun to watch. I hadn't really planned on getting anything, but sitting on a shelf with a bunch of other stuffed animals, was Baby Elkhart. He instantly captured my heart with his ridiculously floppy legs, and the real-feeling velvet of his antlers. I grabbed him up, and brought him to my chest in a little hug, because we both knew he was home.
I know, I know. He is an inanimate object. I understand that. I'm not off my rocker. I'm just a kid sometimes. And with Baby Elkhart, it was love at first sight, as only a child can have with a stuffed animal.
And so he was mine.
A lot of the time, I buy myself toys, only to quickly lose interest in them, and hand them over to the kids. But every once in a while, one becomes special. Baby Elkhart had too much personality to be handed over too quickly. Soon after the zoo adventure, we had the camping adventure.
Every year, everyone in my little immediate family (Joe, mom, Tess, Jody, all three kids), pack it all up for a week, and go to Cannon Beach, Oregon to camp. It's fun, and drives us all crazy at the same time. But the kids love it, and even under all the grumbling, all of us grown ups still save a week's vacation time to attend.
Last year, because Jody had changed jobs, he didn't have any vacation time available, so he couldn't go. Sid was still very young, and so Tessa decided that they would stay home, and it was just going to be myself, Joe, mom and the two older kids. We weren't disappointed, in fact, we were a little excited to see how our smaller group would affect the dynamics of the trip. Especially since we could all ride down to Oregon in the same vehicle together. Oh joy! Anyone who has ever taken a road trip with a seven year old and a four year old can imagine what we were in for.
We planned. I packed an activity bag, and at the last second, I scooped up Baby Elkhart and threw him into the bag. The trip down there is now the stuff that legends are made of.
It was discovered less than a half hour into our trip, that Baby Elkhart can only sing-speak. Now, I don't know if there is a technical term for that, but it basically means that Baby Elkhart says even the simplest things, like, "No, I don't want any water," in a singing voice. And it's not the greatest singing voice. Everyone was in stitches. It's hard to explain, I guess you had to be there, but Baby Elkhart is now a minor celebrity in our circles.
Stella was the most amused. There is nothing I love more than making my baby dill get the belly chuckles. You know that kind of laughing that seems to start in your toes, and ends up centered in your belly, and makes you have to hold your sides. You know, as you're laughing, that your ribs will be sore later, but you don't care, because there isn't any joy like that kind of laughing. And the baby dill laughed like that all the way down there. We were laughing until we were crying.
Also discovered, were some of Baby Elkhart's major personality traits. He's an arrogant little thing, and his favorite thing to sing is his own name. He announces himself constantly, in a little tune he made up himself, that Stella hummed for weeks afterwards. He is a little smart ass too, constantly knowing just the right little thing to say to make someone laugh. He's the master of all he surveys, and has to be the boss of all situations. We found though, that he was easily fooled into thinking he was in charge. That was fun too.
Needless to say, once we arrived at Cannon Beach, the fun didn't stop. One night, Baby Elkhart even read, I mean sang the bedtime story. More hilarity ensued, and believe me, it took at least another hour to calm down after that one. It was decided that if Baby Elkhart was to read another bedtime story, we'd start getting ready for bed a lot earlier.
A week after the trip, my sister told my mom, "I need to meet this damn Baby Elkhart. I've never even SEEN him, and I can't stop singing that stupid song!" I was tickled in all kinds of ways to hear that story. That was a year ago, and still, most times that I see the kids, they ask about Baby Elkhart. I even brought him with me for New Year's Eve, and Stella demanded a portrait with him.
I decided at one point, that Baby Elkhart needed a comrade. There was a website listed on his tag (which, by the way, is also where his name came from), and so I went there. I was so excited to see how many different friends he had to choose from! I had my heart set on Rocky, the white mountain goat. But then, to my horror, I found out that for some reason, this company has a policy against selling things online, and will only sell to vendors. I almost cried. One day, Baby Elkhart WILL have a friend though, if it's the last thing I do.
And that, in a very long entry, is The Legend of Baby Elkhart. I'm sure you'll read about him again.
Sid is one now, Stella is five, and Ian will be eight in less than two weeks. How does that happen? I still remember how warm the wood of the porch was under my bare legs, as I sat there while Tessa told me she was pregnant with Ian. So how do I get from there, to here? Where my baby is now almost eight? And not only that, but he has a sister, who is the apple of my eye, and a baby brother that lights up every room he's in.
I look back at older pictures, and I long for those days. But then I look at these current pictures, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I can't wait until these are old pictures. I want to see my babies all grown up.
My Fortune Cookie told me:
You are dreaming. It is time to wake up now.
Get a cookie from Miss Fortune
So I look at the pictures that I took yesterday at my football party, and this is apparently the very last one. I don't remember taking it. I look more than half sloshed. But damn, did I have fun.
This is Baby Elkhart.
The Legend of Baby Elkhart will follow, soon.
This weekend will be a test. A moment of truth for me. Can I take care of all three of my sister's children overnight? Am I Super Tia or not? I've had the two oldest overnight many times. But never the bay-bay. I've babysat him till bed time, at his own home, with his own bed, but never at my house. I'm nervous, to say the least.
I just want them to have a good time, and maybe get a little bit of sleep for myself.
I think the main cause of my concern though, is that I have such high standards to live up to. I remember when I was a kid, how much fun I had spending the night at my aunt's and uncle's houses, and how important they were to me, my development, and all of my beautiful memories. I had a lot of aunts and uncles, and the kids don't have that many. So I have a lot of special memories I need to create for them.
I'll work on one tomorrow night. Oh, and I'll take lots of pictures.
