Weneki, Lake Valhalla, WA July 2009
It is hard for me to get through the 2nd of September without my mind running in reverse over the years since my daughter was born. Thirty-eight years of memories, but none so great as the day she was born. I was all of 19 years old. I had an inkling of how she was going to come into the world, but no Lamaze class, Discovery Channel or even my mom to clue me in on the whole process. Perhaps I was better off not knowing, but I was lucky. Weneki's delivery was 2 weeks past her original due date, but once started the whole process took 4 hours to complete. Ah sweet mystery of life.
Beyond labor and delivery I had a lot to learn about parenting (see post below). My mother, who had five daughters, was fond of saying she would rather have had boys. Apparently neither my sisters nor I lived up to the ideal of little girls who were neat, sweet, gentile and quiet. Put any 5 females in a room together and listen to the volume go up. I guess I can understand why my parents prayed for "peace and quiet." I don't think I could categorize my Weneki with any of those outdated descriptions of the perfect girl. From the time she was old enough to choose, she rebelled against dresses. She inherited her dad's love of sports and proved adept at athletics like field hockey, basketball, soccer, track and field, rock climbing, hiking. In two weeks this girl of mine is going to run in a tri-athalon.
Weneki is a lover of good books, great tasting tea, Las Vegas, good smelling bath products, all things brown or Kermit green, movies, a challenge, having her hair brushed, guacomole, music, writing utensils, stickers, photographs, scrapbooks, grilled sausages, sunflowers, swimming, fireworks, cats and dogs, quilts, silver jewelry, socks, Pink Panther, the Brat Pack, fruit, someone else's baby, Oprah and Ellen Degeneres, roller coasters, hot air balloons, mountain scenery, Seattle, John Keats, homemade macaroni and cheese, yellow cake with chocolate icing, Roger Ebert and a boy named Zubin.
She is one of her mother's biggest fans unless said mother gets out of line. She keeps me on my toes. I could go on some more but I'll finish this by saying on that Thursday afternoon 38 years ago I had no idea what was in store for me. I can still remember, however, looking at that papoose-wrapped bald-headed baby with big brown eyes the nurse put in my arms and thinking I had been blessed beyond my wildest expectations. I can honestly say that is still true today.
Happy Birthday, Weneki. Don't forget how much your mother loves you.