Six years ago right now, Wonder Woman and I were spending our last night in bed as a childless couple. Earlier in the day, we had gone to an acupuncturist in the hopes that turning Wonder Woman into a human pin cushion would kick-start her labor. She was almost a full two weeks past her due date, and the midwives were only going to let her go another day or two before advising that she be induced at the hospital—which we wanted to avoid, because we both subscribed to the belief that the baby would come out when it was supposed to, sans chemical injections.
Sure enough, either by coincidence, or by the magic of Eastern medicine, labor began … in the middle of the night, of course, and little did we know at the time that it would be just the first of hundreds of nights during which Zan would rob us of our much-needed slumber.
I mentioned to a co-worker yesterday that Zan’s birthday is tomorrow, and my co-worker responded by congratulating me on making it through six years of parenthood. I hadn’t thought of it like that—but now that he has provided me with that perspective, I have something important to share with you all:
“Hear ye, hear ye! By decree of we the weary, broke and stressed-out parents of the world, let it be known that the date on which a child was born shall now be marked by a celebration in honor of said child’s parents until such time that said child has moved out of his/her parents’ house and is successfully supporting himself/herself. Let it also be known that the child whose parents are being celebrated will be required during the celebration to fan said parents with palm fronds while feeding them hand-peeled grapes and professing his/her appreciation for the fairytale-like lifestyle with which said parents have provided him/her. Furthermore, if said child’s mother gave birth to said child when said child weighed almost 10 pounds, and did so without the aid of any anesthesia, said child will be required during the celebration to rub his/her mother’s feet with exotic oils for a period of no less than one hour. Amen.”











Good luck with that… (palm fronds, grapes and exotic oils) My 22 year old still lives at home and I can hardly get him to leave his stinky boots in the garage. He’s the third of four children. He did tell me once that he would change my diapers when I got older. One out of four ain’t bad.
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Amen!!!
Will that day ever come?
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Scratchy Daddy, have you ever heard of Chuck E. Cheese? Great place for birthday parties, and you only have to take home the ones you can find when the pre-determined time period expires. The rest of them get made into…. Oh, never mind.
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Love it sign me up!
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I’ve always been a firm believer that the parents get a bit of kudos on their kids birthdays…if it weren’t for us they wouldn’t have a birthday to celebrate!!!
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There’s hope, each year when my oldest daughter has a birthday I get beautiful flowers delivered…….with a lovely note note thanking me for being her Mom! Well, maybe not so much hope for you, Daddy gets nothing!
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am a fairly new parent, of a 16-month old girl.
you’re scaring me.
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Can I sign up for that ritual…my 4th is on the way any day now! I could use 4 day a year of foot rubbing!
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You should add margaritas to the rule!
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Good luck with that. As a fellow June 11th baby, I can honestly say we’re quite the handful
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Thought you might like to enter this raffle – there are RED SOX tickets to win!!
http://www.firstgiving.com/hallietwomey
Thanks,
Hallie
http://wonderfulworldofweiners.blogspot.com/
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That’s so awesome! May it be so!
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