Fourteen years ago (Saturday), at one minute after noon on a sunny day much like yesterday—hot, yellow light after a perfect cool morning—my second boy emerged into the world. Peaceful there in the belly until 25 minutes before his arrival, that would, in retrospect, sum him up quite well. He’s a mellow guy. He has bursts of astonishing industry. To wit, on the morning of his birthday, he sat down to read the paper, as is his favorite and best way to begin any day. He managed later, though, to fit in a dumpling-making session with a classmate’s dads and contra dancing.
He did make it to dim sum; he didn’t make it to Herrell’s for his free sundae (I’m guessing we will get him one, parents’ buy equals free-enough sundae, yes?).
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I worried, as many women do in that full-bellied with toddler clinging to oversized dress state, whether I had enough love left given my intense attachment to the prince at the center of my universe. It’s not stupid to fear all the changes. It does turn out that, as Al Gore would frame it, love is a renewable resource.
Or as I later have become fond of framing it, more love is more love.
I got—and had—so much more love when that boy made his way into my life.
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The 14 year-old had some love from his little sister straight away, too. And later, he reveled in the thoughtful gifts his grandparents sent, including apron, cookbook and a bunch of menus from chefs he admires signed to him. He received his parents’ versions of honoring his love of cheese and cooking and Portlandia and adventures in dining (I will remain cryptic).
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Meantime, the day’s other highlight was getting to meet our friends’ three-month-old daughter. Her moms knew what to do: plop her in my lap. I don’t have to say a whole lot more than it was instant love on my part.
Except, if I was holding my baby 14 years ago (and the mom of this baby I held yesterday started college, and babysitting for us, when the 16 year-old of ours was tiny like this) then 14 years from now, I could be a grandmother with my second son’s babe in my lap. Holy crap.
