Year Three

Three years ago today, my water broke. It was a Saturday and I had sworn that I would call my mom when the time was upon us. And even though they were on their way to Tahoe, with tickets and backstage passes to a Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young concert, they came back. Because their first grandson was coming into the world and my mom, who had been there for the birth of both of her granddaughters, was bound and determined not to miss this one.

My poor dad. I don't think he's forgiven me for this one. Not yet, perhaps not ever. Because 15 hours later, there was still no baby. He graciously pointed out that they could have attended the concert and been back in plenty of time. I think I flipped him off, but it's sort of a blur. I'll blame the labor.

In the end, it was worth it. Late in the morning, I gave him a grandson. I even named the child for him. Okay, just the middle name, but still, that gets me points. And it's pure Karma that his sorta-namesake is a little turd. Of course, whose karma is the question, since my dad gets the cute and funny and I'm left cleaning up the shit.

I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'd clean up a mountain of shit (and probably will) for that little boy. He's my treasure and my joy, this child whose smile lights my world. He's aware of the significance for the first time this year. For days, we've been hearing, "Guess what? Today is my birthday!" And today, we got to say, "YES! Happy Birthday, Red!"

Happy Third Birthday, Red. Now strap in, because this year is gonna be a doozy.