And now they are eleven; happy birthday!
NorthSideFour: You're never too old, too wacky, too wild, to pick up a book and read to a child. Dr. Suess
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Sunday, September 1, 2013
September First
Nine years ago today this happened.
There is no greater way to illustrate my view on the nature versus nurture debate. At less than two hours old Mary had kicked out of at least three swaddles, eyes wide open. The nurses were baffled, "we have never seen a baby get out of these so well". Jack and I were so proud. Look at our little one, already amazing people with her strength and character. We now know what the nurses were really saying, "hold on people, you are in for it". We had no idea.
And our Kate, so happily bundled up, sound asleep, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to ponder the questions of the universe, or at the least, "what the hell has happened here?". Kate sleeps with a pillow pet on her head, quilt to her neck, a self imposed bundle of soon to be nine year old. Mary sleeps on her head.
Last night, as I wrapped up preparations on pre-birthday dinner, Jack brought out the iPad for some dinner music. The girls were setting the table. "Katy Perry!" and "Vivaldi!", at the exact same time. We dined with old jazz.
We had no idea what was in front of us, we still don't, but we enjoy every day of discovery. Happy birthdays my sweet girls, celebrate in your very own way, making your own kind of music. It's all beautiful.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Happy Birthday
Today at the precise moment, at that magic time when I know for the rest of my life I will look at my watch and know exactly where I was in 2004, I was in the restroom at our local diner negotiating a heated argument as to who could actually reach the soap. And this makes perfect sense because you see last week neither could, and today everyone is just a bit taller, being one year older and such.
Happy birthday Kate,
Happy birthday Mary.
Happy birthday Kate,
Happy birthday Mary.
Monday, August 31, 2009
One and Five
The first year was big. There were grandparents, cousins, aunts, colleagues, the uncles, friends and almost everyone we knew, save the priest who married us, although I am certain he was invited. We were celebrating, one year of limited sleep behind us, we were ready to dash into the future with these two people who had forever changed our lives. Weeks of planning, cooking, shopping, and list making, all managed while making the dramatic change to sippy cup and milk from a gallon jug, amazing.
We smoked pork and grilled fish for tacos. We bought tortillas from the tortilla place in the Mexican neighborhood, made green rice and black beans, quesadillas, guacamole, salsa verde and salsa roja. I made two heart shaped banana cakes, one for each to destroy and devour.
We ordered two large block shaped cakes, described in great detail, green and pink and yellow, adorable, so one year, with cute one year things on all sides, and an M and a K on the top, perfect! There were no cakes, none. He forgot, or thought the party was the next day, or was drunk, I have no idea. Three hours later he showed up at our apartment with two cakes, or really, two large boxes, because when he opened them there was what once was possibly cake but now was a chocolate and grey pile of mess with a misshapen M on one side and a loopy K on the other.
We had mariachis, two very old men from our favorite restaurant in the Pilsen, two old men who spoke very limited English, and by that I mean they knew to smile and nod when greeted in English, two very old men who rarely ventured to the north side and who apparently got lost when doing so. They were an hour late, Jack called their phone, "Hola!", they were lost, hopelessly lost. He stood on our corner, on his cell phone, recalling every bit of his high school Spanish, but sadly "como estas?" was not helping at all. He eventually found an ice cream guy, the ones that ride around the city on their bikes selling frutas frescas, and asked him to please give directions to the lost mariachis on the telephone. It worked, in less than 15 minutes we had lovely music on our back deck. We danced, we sang, we cried, and Mary and Kate watched the entire spectacle from a place one goes after burying themselves in banana cake. It was exactly as we wanted, the perfect celebration of our new life and we were all quite happy.
Last Saturday we celebrated five at the beach. It was 62 degrees and partly cloudy in Chicago. There were no bathing suits but plenty of jackets and sweaters, pizza and cake, Old Style and juice, and two very happy little girls who spent the day running in the sand with some of their best friends, oblivious to the cold and lack of mariachis.
Mary and Kate would pick five, I'm certain; I'll take either, both wonderful days celebrating life as we now know it, although it was much warmer at one.
We smoked pork and grilled fish for tacos. We bought tortillas from the tortilla place in the Mexican neighborhood, made green rice and black beans, quesadillas, guacamole, salsa verde and salsa roja. I made two heart shaped banana cakes, one for each to destroy and devour.
We ordered two large block shaped cakes, described in great detail, green and pink and yellow, adorable, so one year, with cute one year things on all sides, and an M and a K on the top, perfect! There were no cakes, none. He forgot, or thought the party was the next day, or was drunk, I have no idea. Three hours later he showed up at our apartment with two cakes, or really, two large boxes, because when he opened them there was what once was possibly cake but now was a chocolate and grey pile of mess with a misshapen M on one side and a loopy K on the other.
We had mariachis, two very old men from our favorite restaurant in the Pilsen, two old men who spoke very limited English, and by that I mean they knew to smile and nod when greeted in English, two very old men who rarely ventured to the north side and who apparently got lost when doing so. They were an hour late, Jack called their phone, "Hola!", they were lost, hopelessly lost. He stood on our corner, on his cell phone, recalling every bit of his high school Spanish, but sadly "como estas?" was not helping at all. He eventually found an ice cream guy, the ones that ride around the city on their bikes selling frutas frescas, and asked him to please give directions to the lost mariachis on the telephone. It worked, in less than 15 minutes we had lovely music on our back deck. We danced, we sang, we cried, and Mary and Kate watched the entire spectacle from a place one goes after burying themselves in banana cake. It was exactly as we wanted, the perfect celebration of our new life and we were all quite happy.
Last Saturday we celebrated five at the beach. It was 62 degrees and partly cloudy in Chicago. There were no bathing suits but plenty of jackets and sweaters, pizza and cake, Old Style and juice, and two very happy little girls who spent the day running in the sand with some of their best friends, oblivious to the cold and lack of mariachis.
Mary and Kate would pick five, I'm certain; I'll take either, both wonderful days celebrating life as we now know it, although it was much warmer at one.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tipsy Cake? Topsy Cake? Turvy Cake?
This
was on the front seat of this
Sunday morning. Of course this is not really our car, my camera was also on the front seat, next to the amazing cake, being towed away from the tamaleria. While running in to buy birthday party lunch on the way to the beach, our car was hoisted onto a tow truck; no parking at the Dunkin' Donuts for tamales. First Jack looked in the window, to check on the cake, then he stood in front of the truck and demanded they give our car, and our cake back. They argued, he stood firm, refused to move, refused to let them take away his daughters' beautiful beach birthday cake. I think he was prepared to go to jail for this cake. And when he was about to negotiate a trade, the car for the cake, they dropped the car, clearly tired of dealing with a crazed father on birthday party day.
We were only 30 minutes late to our own party, how about that? The cake survived, nary a scratch or smudge, and it tasted as good as it looked.
Amazing cake courtesy of Tipsy Cake.
was on the front seat of this
Sunday morning. Of course this is not really our car, my camera was also on the front seat, next to the amazing cake, being towed away from the tamaleria. While running in to buy birthday party lunch on the way to the beach, our car was hoisted onto a tow truck; no parking at the Dunkin' Donuts for tamales. First Jack looked in the window, to check on the cake, then he stood in front of the truck and demanded they give our car, and our cake back. They argued, he stood firm, refused to move, refused to let them take away his daughters' beautiful beach birthday cake. I think he was prepared to go to jail for this cake. And when he was about to negotiate a trade, the car for the cake, they dropped the car, clearly tired of dealing with a crazed father on birthday party day.We were only 30 minutes late to our own party, how about that? The cake survived, nary a scratch or smudge, and it tasted as good as it looked.
Amazing cake courtesy of Tipsy Cake.
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