happy birthday to ewe

Fifteen years ago Garrison was born. He actually arrived right around this time -- right around midnight. But we decided to have his birthday be May 8 instead of May 9, because it's a much nicer day. Eights in general are preferable to nines, wouldn't you agree? Plus I was born in '58, so I liked the number vibe of 5-8. We even said that his arrival time would be 11:58.

We had the freedom to decide these things, you see, because he was born at home with only Jim as his midwife. Or midhusband, as it were.

He arrived one week past his due date. The fourth child. The third son.

He arrived in the bathroom after oh...maybe 15 minutes of labor. Please don't hate me. It's a true fact.

We had gone for a walk that evening and I'd had some light contractions, but then I'd been having them for weeks and didn't pay any attention to them at all. I had gotten out of bed to spray warm water on my belly with our hand held shower sprayer, because it felt kind of crampy. Then I thought maybe I just needed to use the potty. Then I realized, with spectacular clarity, that no, I needed to PUSH! I called for Jim, who called for Corie and told her to call the midwife. While she was on the phone to the midwife's answering service he told her never mind, call 911. By the time the EMTs arrived, Garrison was already here. He weighed 9 lb. 12 oz, when the official midwife came around 3:00 a.m. with her handy portable baby scale.

May 9th was Mother's Day, and we had made reservations at the neighborhood cafe for Brunch. Believe it or not, I wasn't quite up to going that morning, but the rest of my family went ahead, and brought me home a tray of the most delicious food I've ever eaten. I can still taste those melons. My lilac bush was in full bloom (as it is now) and Corie had picked a bouquet which she brought to me with my meal.

His little face was rather purple for the first few days. It was a result, I believe, of his amazingly speedy arrival.

And now this baby is 15. He's 6'3" and wears a size 12 shoe. He's taking driver's ed. He can sing like Johnny Cash on "I Walk the Line" and "Ring of Fire." He's got blond hair and blue eyes and has really nasty cuticles. His heart is huge and tender. He can almost tolerate his little sister, but just barely. He plays football and runs the 400 and designs cars and houses. He is my go-to guy for carrying in groceries, reaching high shelves, and often fixing things. He is completely nuts about his nieces and his nephew. He wants to spend his birthday money fixing up his mountain bike. (My brother says he wants to make a Ferrari out of a Yugo. I think if anyone can, it'd be my boy.)

For his birthday dinner he chose ribs and chocolate cake. I delegated the ribs to Jim, not being a rib fan myself. And I turned to Pioneer Woman for the chocolate cake.

Susannah came in once it was complete (except for the pecans in the frosting. We're chocolate purists around here.) and asked, "What kind of cake is that?" I told her, "chocolate sheet cake. From Pioneer Woman." I continued my bustling with the beans and mashed potatoes and overheard her telling Danny, "Mom made a sheep cake. It's a pioneer thing."

Ah yes. That's how they celebrated birthdays back in the covered wagon days.

Sheep cake. Not to be confused with the more widely known shepherd's pie.



(p.s. It was thoroughly delicious, by the way. Do not delay. Make some today.)