Birthday Madness, Part 1

Early this morning, a small quivering shivering warm body crawled into my bed for "snuggles".

"I don't know what to do," he said. "I'm just so ... happy... that I'm five."

I looked at the clock. "Yep, birthday boy. You turned five half an hour ago."

**************************

5:29 am, a magical morning following a very clinical night full of doctors and nurses and various other medical staff, employees, various trainees and paramedics (I'm sure the custodians were there, too) all crowding in the "birthing room" of the hospital, excited and chattering and milling about... there because it was a "textbook birth". They were so thrilled, they had all the trainees and at least one administrative executive present to witness the momentous event. I was thrilled I had half the population of the city in front row seats to my cooch.

But then he was born, all 7 pounds, 8 ounces of squalling red flesh, and the rest was put aside. Top-notch apgar and reflexes up the ying-yang. He was a bundle of happiness and nummy little baby parts, but mostly of what-do-I-do-now-ness.

**************************

Today, he's still exceeding expectations.

The doorbell rings... we run to answer with smiles on our faces. The first of our guests arrive. And they arrived in amazing syncronicity. Punctuality is very much the rage here. Bam bam bam! They came at once: eleven excited eager little bodies ready for birthday fun. Canny, some of the parents declined to stay and partake of the ensuing mayhem.

We planned for lunch, cake, gifts and games. The havoc and chaos quickly commenced, and I can assure you, I have little understanding of how the day unfolded.

Today was not a day of reflection and basking languidly in the moment of birthdayness joy, as last year was. The moments for holding and squeezing and giving birthday snuggles would have to come later, after the din died down and peace once again reigned. No, there was little reflection and absolutely no basking. The cats were sent forthwith to the basement to escape the raucous horror that would otherwise await them. Doors were closed off, barring particular portions of the house from the celebratory fervor -- with the one exception of a baby and mom needing some quiet feeding time. That's allowed.

They arrived at noon with gleams of childish joy in their faces. They moved in constant splashes of color and noise. They smiled big smiles and cackled constantly. They TOLD ON EACH OTHER.

"We're staying til supper!" One little guest excitedly proclaimed as she bounced erratically through the living room.

Racing from room to room, upstairs downstairs upstairs downstairs upstairsdownstairs they yelled and screamed and laughed. In the kitchen, preparing lunch and the other festivities, the reality hit me of what I had gotten myself into. I was hosting a 5-year-old's coed birthday party.

I might have whimpered "Hold me." No one did.

As with the birthing of this precious boy, his fifth birthday passed in a blur of faces and sounds that blended screaming laughing yelling singing. Cake - amazing dinosaur vignette cake - featured a key moment in this celebration. And there were several other moments from today that, upon quiet time to recover and relax, I just might remember.

I expected a celebration. I expected joy and laughter for him. He just might have gotten it.

Right now I have only snapshot memories of today. And that might be a good thing.