Birthday

Big Guy likes my birthday. It is one day before his own Big Day, so he hogs mine to stretch his own celebration to 48 hours of nonstop presents, well wishes and double cake and ice cream.

This year, my birthday started abruptly, at 4 a.m. with a phone call.

"Mom, I'm really sick. I want to come home," said Birdie.

"Find Daisy. Make her take you to the medical clinic," I replied. I would have taken Birdie. But while I was in St. Louis, The Girls were in the city of Santiago in the Dominican Republic--footloose, fancy-free, except now Birdie wasn't.

Rousting himself from slumber, hearing my reply, Big Guy knew: This year, he wanted no part of my birthday. It wasn't going to be fun.

Back and forth, the phone calls went. Birdie landed in the hospital emergency room with an IV, needle sticks, prodding and poking, and finally, an endoscopy. I hung by the phone in St. Louis. I wanted only to wrap my arms around Birdie. Big Guy felt the same. He went to meetings. I worked on a project. But in our hearts, time stood still.

On my birthday, Birdie lost a lot of dignity. But she got great care, at about $400. Early evening, she went home to a Dominican mama with a huge heart, hugs and an offering of a simple soup then sleep in an airconditioned room.

I felt a bit better, having Skype'd and seen with my own eyes Birdie in a kitchen, with soup in front of her flanked by a mama and Daisy. I still wanted my Birdie, but she'd found a nest for the night. She'd recover. She'd live another day to roll her eyes, sigh and wish that she was anywhere but at home in St. Louis with her parents.

With my day smoothed out, Big Guy and I went to dinner with Brad and Angelique to celebrate my birthday. As the drinks flowed, I could feel Big Guy starting to hone in on my birthday as a precursor to his own.
Then dessert happened. Four gelato cones. Four mystery flavors. As Birthday Girl, I picked first. I picked blindly. I picked ice cream flavored with Fuit-Loop cereal. In that moment, as I struggled through my artificially surreal gelato and Big Guy slowly licked his pistachio gelato, it was clear: This birthday, with all its twists and turns, belonged solely to me.

While I Was Visting

I'm home. I won't say that Mom sent me packing, but in my short near four weeks with her...the dishwasher broke, the airconditioning broke, the garbage disposal took a temporary breather, the start knob on the dryer died and the plumber fixed the toilet--twice. Imagine if I'd stayed a bit longer. Visting with you was fun, Mom. And I'll be back again soon. You might want to check into extended warranties, on everything.