Happy Birthday, Beautiful Boy
Oh, little man.
I started writing out your birth story this morning, thinking I would post it here for your special day but the dogs keep barking and running back and forth and the phone keeps ringing with [Excuse me, the dogs want in again. Okay, I'm back.] people wishing you a happy day and I have some things I need to do for your Aunt Laurenn’s wedding this morning and some errands to run and thank you notes to write and some paperwork to prepare for the accountant. Meanwhile, you’re napping and fighting off a cold.
This is what our life is like now, little man. It’s hectic and noisy and a little scary to outsiders I think, but I promise you whatever else this house is full of, it’s full of love. As big a day as your original birthday was for all of us, I think I’d much rather talk about this day.
Right now, your daddy is sleeping. Your daddy works with superheroes and spies and baseball players and presidents and they all like to get together after midnight and tell their stories. It’s quieter after midnight — editors don’t call, nobody calls, really, except your daddy’s friends who also tell stories after midnight. Your daddy is a very hard worker, little man, the hardest worker I’ve ever met. But before you start thinking he’s a martyr of some sort, let me assure you he and his friends and the spies and superheroes and presidents also do their fair share of playing too. They play video games and poker and watch baseball and argue about the election and read blogs and sometimes they go see late night movies at the drive in. Your daddy has a hard job, but he is very, very good at it and he has fun. I hope that whatever you decide to for a living, it’s something that you enjoy.
(Mommy works in stories too, but never ever after midnight. Mommy’s brain is wired very differently than daddy’s.)
You have two cats and two dogs, a mommy, a daddy and three days a week, a Miss April. Miss April is afraid of Ham, the cat, which is wise, really because Ham is a pretty nasty cat sometimes. This morning, Miss April was taking you up to your room to play on the floor for a little while before your nap and Ham was sleeping in your nursery. Miss April spun right around and came down and I went up and carried Ham in to sleep with your daddy. Meanwhile Claude (your yellow dog) came up as far as the landing and stuck his nose in everybody’s business. I think you’re a little bit afraid of Claude, but only sometimes. That’s fair; Claude is a big guy and sometimes you freak him out. You love the black dog, the one we call Captain Applejack, though. You like to climb up on Applejack and put your arms around him and give him a big hug. That’s fun for us and Applejack doesn’t seem to mind. You’re good with your baby sign language and you sign “dog” and “cat” pretty consistently. You try to say “dog,” but it sounds like “ba!” at this point. You also call both cats “babo,” which, I think, is your version of “Pablo.” Maybe that’s why Ham is so nasty? Maybe his feelings are hurt that you never say his name?
Miss April did manage to get you down for your nap. She’s working on teaching you how to put yourself to sleep, so she swaddled you up and laid you in your crib while you were still awake and then she stayed with you stroking your back and letting you know that she was there with you until you finally drifted off. She already vacuumed the dog hair off the sofa, so now Miss April is sitting in the livingroom with your monitor catching up on her email and trying to figure out what’s involved in upgrading her phone. In the year 2008, we’re still all trying to figure out this new technology that’s making its way into our lives. We love it — your mommy and daddy (and April too!) are gadget people — but sometimes this stuff is tricky. I think the social infrastructure isn’t quite there yet. But this is all stuff we can talk about when you’re older.
It’s chilly today. I’m sitting at my desk on my pink chair in my big red robe, sipping hot coffee. My desk is cluttered. It’s always cluttered but it’s more so these days because your favorite thing to do is sit on my lap and in a single flourish, dump everything off my desk onto the floor. It’s not my favorite game but I can deny you nothing.
I’m listening to NPR and Morning Edition is covering the election. Mommy doesn’t like Governor Palin, Henry. Mommy doesn’t like Governor Palin at all. Here’s hoping by the time you’re interested in politics, she’s no more than a footnote in the chapter of your history book that covers this election. (Remind me to show you the “Henry, no!” watercolor that Stuart and Kathryn Immonen sent you for your birthday. It chilled your daddy and me to our core and also made us laugh so hard we coughed a bit.)
Oh man. I’m so looking forward to talking to you about history and politics and superheroes and presidents and girls and stuff. I like you so much already, Henry. I love you like crazy, but I like you a whole lot too. You’re a funny guy — you laugh a lot and you already try to make me laugh, which is the greatest thing in the world.
Okay, it’s time for me to change out of my robe and brush my hair and get on with the day. However old you are when you’re reading this, I hope it gives you a little flavor of your life right now. Most importantly, I want you to know that you are loved. You’ve made my heart bigger than I ever thought possible, Henry Leo.
Thank you for coming to live with us, Kid. Happy birthday.
Filed under Milestones | Comments (13)13 Responses to “Happy Birthday, Beautiful Boy”
Leave a Reply
[...] Thank you for coming to live with us. [...]
a special message that expresses a family of love. Each
of you are lucky to have each other.
Happy Birthday, kiddo!
kelly sue I love you and yours so much my heart could explode. Reading this letter I felt your emotions and it made me cry. You are the best egg that ever was.
Happy birthday little henry you couldn’t of asked for a better set of parents.
ps want to adopt me?
Awww, that made me tear up at work. Happy birthday, HL!
Your mommy and daddy really are gadget people, Henry. A year ago (well, a little before), your dad was sending out messages and mails to people all over the world to let us know you were getting born. And a lot of people had been waiting to meet you, so when you got here, a lot of people were really, really happy. By the time I woke up, a year ago today, there were already pictures up so I could see you, and that made the day sooo much better.
That’s something very special about your mom and dad and you, even if you haven’t noticed quite yet: All three of you don’t let something silly like time zones or distances get in the way of making and sharing your joys. I live very far away, but you and your mom and dad have shared a lot of special memories with me (and a lot of other folks!) this year, by using all sorts of gadgets and that social infrastructure your mom is going to talk to you about. It’s been really amazing watching you grow a whole year, and never having met you.
Thank you, Kel and Fraction, for sharing so many good days (and some of the meh ones) with your friends and family all over the world.
And thank YOU, Henry, for always making me smile, by being smart and sweet and wonderful. I agree 100% with your mom — I like you a whole lot.
1. Happy Birthday!
2. We’re sorry! We were just thinking about the true horror of parenting.
3. Also, that’s why babies aren’t allowed to vote.
xoxok+s
oh my, i’m sitting at work and tearing up. when i read this it’s hard not to want to see the kind of person you turn out to be, henry. and to think how cool the world would be if all kids had parents like yours…
happy birthday, whenever you read this.
Happy Birthday, Henry! Like Ariana, I remember getting the text message from your dad saying you were here. We’ve come a long way from wax-sealed letters on horseback, for sure. By the time you’re a grown-up talking to your friends, of course, this notion of “text messages” will probably be as quaint as the days of asking a telephone operator to manually connect you Pennsylvania 6-5000.
There is a tradition in the Talmud which holds that we, all us human beings, are already formed before we are born, and that we watch the Earth from… well, “up above” isn’t the right phrase for it… more like, from somewhere very near the Flying Spaghetti Monster. And while we’re watching, at some point we decide who we want our parents to be, we pick ‘em out like just the right goldfish from the giant tank at the pet store, and we tell the Flying Spaghetti Monster to make it happen. And sometimes, we even pick out parents who aren’t even together, who don’t even know each other yet, and so the FSM has to find a way to make all the right things happen to make those two people come together so you can be born.
(The Talmud, by the way, is a really big book compiled over several generations by a bunch of men a couple thousand years ago who were really quite smart for their time, most especially for the fact that they figured out a way to argue with each other, vehemently and passionately and profoundly, about both the biggest most important questions one can ask *and* the smallest most trivial details one can get hung up on, in a systematic and orderly way that let them argue as much as they felt they needed to without having to resort to dirty tricks and personal attacks and straw men and other logical fallacies that make arguments useless. Sadly, almost nobody argues this way anymore.)
So your mom and dad, they met through a web board that was put together by your Uncle Warren, and if the wise men of the Talmud are right, that whole place might have been your doing. It was a terrific place and a lot of friendships were forged and careers were started and maybe there were a lot of other reasons why just the right bunch of people were ready to have just the right place to come together, but most certainly one of those things was bringing your folks together, so maybe it was your doing. In which case, thanks for that, ’cause I liked that place an awful lot too, and it’s why I know your folks.
So when you’re older, here’s the deal: I’ll pay you a fifty bucks if you tell Uncle Warren that you told the Flying Spaghetti Monster to make his Forum happen on Delphi cause you needed to get your folks together.
I’ll pay you double if you call him “Grandpa” Warren in the process.
Henry, your mom sure is a talented writer.
Happy birthday, little guy.
Hi Kelly Sue,
I know I only know you and Fraction through Andy, and I only finally got to meet you and little Henry Leo this past comicon, but I think you guys are the awesome-est. And I think like everyone else, I’m totally enamored with HL and that he is the most adorable baby ever.
Happy birthday Henry Leo!
xx,
*stepho*
Happy Birthday my precious grandson. I’m so proud of you and of your Mom and Dad. You hand picked the greatest parents ever… Smart move..
You are a lucky little boy to have so much unconditional love from your family. I wish you a year of adventures, new discoveries, great times with your grandpa’s , giggles with your grandma’s and great playtime with your Mom and Dad. Enjoy Miss April and play till your little fanny drops wiht exhaustion, laugh out loud and as loud as you can…Make ever squeel heard by the angels..they need a laugh too….You make the world a better place becasue you are here Henry…
Know you are the greatest blessing to me and Paw Paw Frank.
We love you to the MOON AND BACK…….ALL OUR LOVE ALWAYS Mimi and Paw Paw Frank XOXOXO
Henry Leo,
Though we may not be related by blood or branches of a family tree, you have entered our hearts like no other and have set roots into us that are deep, indeed.
One of the things I pray for is to be around long enough to see you grow and perhaps have the time to talk about trees, books and noisy birds. I hope we will be able to walk down a dirt path together now and again. I may have to teach you a tacky joke that you can’t say in church, because that’s what uncles do. I’ve checked, it’s in the job description.
And little man, you can know with certainty that you are blessed with a mother and father that love you beyond description. The world you are living can be pretty crazy at times, but with the love and deep care that is given to you without reservation, it makes it a pretty special place. Yep, you’re luckier than most, Henry.
Happy Birthday, Henry Leo. Much love sent your way from California, where you should tell your parents to move.