birthday weekend

Let me just start by saying that the day I turned thirty, I took my third child for his one week checkup at the pediatrician’s.  It was the first time I had been out of the house since his birth.  I don’t remember anything about that part of the day, except that getting out of the car was waaaay more difficult that I remembered.  Later, that night, I was taken to dinner – my whole family and Bryan’s parents were there.  Bryan let me out of the car with my then almost 4 year old daughter and 2 1/2 year old son, went and parked, and met us at the table.  My mother looked up and said, “Where’s the baby?”

At which point Bryan went back to the car to get him.

The rest of the evening is a haze, sort of a vision through a tunnel from my seat at the head of the long table.  People were talking to me; I nodded and smiled a lot.  Only one thing was clear, and it was crystal clear, the knowledge as sharp and keen as my mind had once been. I had turned thirty, had a third child, and upset the balance of the universe.  Or at least our particular family. We were outnumbered, my body was never going to recover, and I was headed for a quick and certain death.

Fortunately, Whitney did much better on her 30th.

Her parents kindly let us take over their home for a couple of days.  It was such a special place – touches of beauty around every corner.

Wish I’d managed to get pics like these of every girl there – sometimes I hang back with the camera, not wanting to bug people.  And then I see these and my only regret is not being a little pushier.

Well, maybe not my only regret.  I also regret that the (finally!) first picture I put up of my new hair is one taken after a day in pajamas, interrupted only by swimming in the pool.  That is so not what it looks like.  At least, I hope.

All I can say is thank you, Whitney – I loved being with you and many friends in such a beautiful place.