birthdays and my baby no more

This past week, three birthdays were celebrated in the clan I’m lucky enough to call my own. Three people who have journeyed around the sun once more, passing through events magical and heartrending, serendipitous and exquisite: my boy (13), our friend (30) and me (52). Each of us with a hand on the thread that entwines us always as kin.

Number One (Zoë) and her partner, Aaron, came to town to surprise Courtney for her 30th. Who, it must be said, was a very good sport about opening (and closing! and re-opening) the door to find a throng of people had descended upon her house. The smile on her face was priceless and thankfully, her 30-year old heart did not need jump-starting.

Zoë and I, bookending the babe …

IMG_4556eThere were cards and layers of cake …

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birthday

bdcakeblush pink blooms …

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IMG_4616eAnd food the stuff that dreams are made of (at least mine). Incidentally, the dream meals involve not having to prepare them.

Number Four is now a newly minted teenager. (Three down and one to go. Also glorious.) On occasion he reminds me that he does have a proper name (Kieran) as the moniker his sister fastened to him at birth—The Little Pie—has stuck. Despite the fact that he is taller than his nearly 5′ 9″ mother—and getting even taller. By the day. Holy big shoes and deodorant and too-small mattress crisis. It all hit at once. And then wham! the night before his birthday he went straight for my blind spot by informing me that he was slipping out of The LP noose.

Mum, this is THE LAST NIGHT OF MY CHILDHOOD. I’ll be waking up in the morning and there will be no more Little Pie. From now on, I’ll be all Teenage Angst-and-Emotionally Repressed Pie.

Uh … NO! … NOooo … You need to understand there will ALWAYS be a Little Pie!
(I stood there, face collapsing, watching a grin ignite wildly across his face.)

It’s okay Mum. I can see that you’re trying to process this. Come and give me a goodnight hug—THE LAST HUG OF MY CHILDHOOD!

I leaned in for the big one. And felt my heart go whomp.

In the morning, The Teenager buried his face in a plate of blueberry pancakes. But not before pausing with his fork in mid-air to announce:

This is my FIRST BITE OF FOOD AS A TEENAGER!

And I saluted my baby-no-more.

Enjoy it, Pie! May you remember this meal always …

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