June 10, 2010
June 10, 2009A year ago, Ezra was tiny. Now he's less tiny. Today's his birthday, and during the quieter moments I found myself remembering what it was like to be laboring, to be at the hospital, and to be holding that tiny new boy. Today he's busy crawling, climbing, standing, and almost walking, becoming a little less babyish each day.
Truthfully, it's difficult stirring up a commotion for his birthday because he doesn't know the difference. He doesn't understand "birthday." A babe's birthday is really an occasion for the family members. And his Papa doesn't come home until tomorrow, and his grandparents, who are most excited, don't arrive until Sunday. So it's a prolonged celebration.
So my mother and I had a lovely day that didn't include too much: storytime at the library; lunch with Aunt Linda; plenty of playtime outside. Mom recalled all the wacky, wonderful birthday cakes she made for us over the years: Raggedy Ann, Big Bird, a train, a roller skate, and even a racetrack with galloping horses. My birthday cake track record is abysmal by comparison, but granted, the kids are young. This year it'll be cupcakes for Ezra. But I'm already thinking of what traditions we should foster, what rituals may mark our most special days.
I'd like to think that I won't soon forget the intense thrill of welcoming a new babe into the world, but it likely fades with time. So today--what's left of it--I'm savoring the memory of holding that fresh little one, all warm and sleepy and so, so tiny. But with a year under his belt now he's a plucky, sassy fellow.