I had best do this post quickly, because as of midnight, this will no longer be the birth date of my elder child. Thirty five years ago, our son was born.
I called him today and said that he took his own good time getting here. I was in labor from 2:30 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. Well, for all those family members who have had to wait for him since then, just remember I was the first one who had to wait for him. Of course, his dad waited too. In fact, I slept through much of that day, but my dear husband didn’t. He was my coach, cheerleader, team spirit raiser par excellence. And also the first one who got to hold our son.
All the wonderful photos of my son as a baby are in 35 mm slide form, so I have none to offer here of the tiny baby. He was a cute child—with wonderful red curls that stood out around his head like a halo. Nothing else angelic about him, but the hair!
And now he is half way through his 30s. Whew—how can that be? That makes me. . .oh, never mind!
Of the two photos just above--the mouth open yelling son and the serious reading in the corner son, the second was far more typical.
When our daughter was born, our son was a great big brother. And a role model!
My, oh my, where does the time go?