Tuesday, February 06, 2007

A star was born February 7, 1980.

We met in November 1978. I was busy with my life, my roommate was busy with hers. She worked for a pet shop in Phoenix Arizona, and they had a bird there, a giant bird - a great green winged macaw, if I remember correctly. My roommate was my best friend,(and she was also my roommate while I still loved at home, she moved in her sophomore year of high school, which was my junior year) But I digress, as usual. I used to take her to work on many occasions, and pick her up when her shift was finished, and this went on for a couple of years. She was frequently running behind, and I would hang out in the pet shop waiting for her. I would look at the puppies and kitties, and the fish, but generally I would stand outside the macaw's cage and make fun of him - Amos was his name. He has an evil face, and a mocking laugh, and before long, he really hated me. Fast (back) forward to November 1978. Roommate came home from work, and told me that someone actually bought and paid for Amos, and his selling price was ridiculous, $1800, which was REALLY alot of money at that time. I couldn't believe any fool would pay that for an ugly bird. So I asked her "who in their right mind would pay that for a bird?". Her answer, surprised me-she told me that I would meet him in a few minutes, that she had a date with the buyer. And damned if he didn't show up, my future husband, your future father. Of course, you were just a twinkle in his eye at that time. It was a whirlwind romance, although we didn't start dating until Christmas 1978. He went with roommate for a few weeks, and then it became obvious it was not in the cards for them. I consoled him, and we fell in love. So much in love that we married six weeks later. No we were not expecting you yet, although when you were born three days shy of our first wedding anniversary, everyone was counting on their fingers. I was crazy about your dad - I thought he was the smartest and handsomest man that ever lived and I was so lucky to have him. But this blog is about you, not your parents. I just wanted to set the stage a little. (I did end up living with Amos, by the way, and it was not pretty. He hated me, as he should have, but that's another story,and one that you have heard before.) It was just a few months before I THOUGHT that something might be going on with my body, I felt funny and your dad's cologne made me want to throw up in the mornings, in fact, MOST things made me want to throw up in the morning. But that could not be, I was taking my pills faithfully, it was impossible, wasn't it? EPT tests were very new in early 1979. But I went and spent FIFTEEN dollars on one, and we were quite poor. I COULDN'T WAIT to find out what was going on. I was afraid to hope, and I had NO idea what your dad would say, but that didn't matter, because there was NO WAY. I hurried home to use the kit. I read the directions, and I about cried, I had to wait until tomorrow, because I had to use first morning pee. So I told your dad what i thought MIGHT be up, and he cried, hoping so much that I was in fact pregnant. I cried then, too. All my life, I NEVER wanted kids. NEVER. I couldn't stand the little brats, and I had had enough of my little sister to know they were not for me. But the idea of a BABY in me, the very IDEA, had me in tears, and I never had wanted ANYTHING in my life so badly. The evening progressed so slowly. I couldn't wait to go to bed, and I did, very early. I got up at four o'clock in the morning, so I could pee. (Back then, I was like you, I didn't know four am). I put the little stick in it, and waited. Your dad got up and waited with me. You know the rest, it's history. I jumped up and down and hooped and hollered, and ran (in the dark) to my parent's place, very nearby, and rang the door bell incessantly until they woke up and I told them the news. It was the happiest moment in my life, up to that point. Needless to say, you have provided very many happy moments in my life, since then. Such as the day you were born. You have heard that story countless times. You know how I feel. And yet, each year on your birthday, I want you to KNOW, to FEEL just a little bit of what I do each year. Complete elation, absolute end of the rainbow happiness. Your sweet, pudgy little face, your dark, curly hair, the chubby rolls on your legs, all beautiful, sweet, nine pounds six ounces of you. You were awesome. You still are. Happy Birthday.

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