what this day began

Time passes so quickly, and nothing marks it like birthdays, especially those of one's own children. Today is a double one; two of my kids share this date, though not the same birth year. It wasn't from any planning on my(our) part. It was more of a remove-the-barriers-and-wait kind of thing, and each time, along came another child. It's just that the third one decided to pop out on his sister's second birthday.

I did go shopping in the morning of my last labour (the things you do). My son wasn't born till evening, so there was time to get quite a bit in. I remember making a stop at a toy store, lots of pauses to breathe through contractions, to get things for the second one's birthday party, which was of course postponed. I must already have got her birthday present, that I don't remember. But I do remember the urgency (oh yeah) to make sure I was ready for her day, too, before I was swamped by the new member of our family. I was going to get to spend a couple days with him all to myself, but I knew full well, I wouldn't be straight back to normal when I got home. Fortunately, she didn't know the significance, so having her birthday party a week late was perfectly fine with her. Last time we fooled her about anything, too.

as they once were

There were a few years there when I think the two of them were really quite irritated by the coincidence of their birthdays being the same (and their older sister worked hard to tolerate all the attention they got on this date too) but they all mellowed out about it and celebrate the day quite well now. (It's not like they're a bunch of kids anymore.) I know the two b-dayers have a contest to see who gets in the first happy birthday call. In recent years my daughter wins, but she has time zones working for her. It's not a fair contest.

My middle child is in another city, so a card in the mail and a phone call have to do for now, though I'm going to go visit (pester?) her soon. We had the official family dinner with the youngest several days ago (I was supposed to be away this weekend, but hey, got a cold instead). It seemed right to me, to leave him room to celebrate with friends on the weekend. Because this day isn't about me, not anymore anyway, not since those first ones, but I sure do remember when we met. Eventful days, I must say. And I am so glad they are here (this is what is known as understatement).

I joke about it sometimes, about the decisions that led to having three children, that it wasn't rational, that I didn't know what I was doing. And actually that's true, I didn't. But for some reason my whole being wanted them, completely. Biology? Soul? Does it matter? Once here, what could I do but love them. I've never wanted to give them back. The cat maybe. Not the kids.

So, nothing rational about it, and isn't that just fine? I love my children to pieces, and now sit admiringly at their sidelines seeing what they'll do next.