Happy Birthday, Boy#3!

At exactly this moment 24 years ago, I was thinking a thought I had only two other times in my life. That thought was this:

"Oh, crap. I'd forgotten how much this hurts."

On that day, the day I again remembered that I was chair of the Committee Promoting Sainthood for the Inventor of the Epidural, Husband and I were preparing to be introduced to our third child. And as with our first two children, we did not know what to expect.

I pretty much knew this one was a girl. This baby had nestled high under my ribcage instead of snuggling into my pelvis like the two boys at home had, and the heartbeat on the obstetrician's speaker-equipped stethoscope was fast and light, running upwards of 145 when the two brothers' prenatal pulses had been closer to 130. I was so sure this child was a girl, in fact, that my hospital bag contained an adorable, frilly onesie to use in taking our daughter home and nothing suitable for a bouncing baby boy.

But then, surprise! It was a boy!

This was the first of dozens hundreds countless surprises Boy#3 has had for us over the years. I was  surprised by how fearless he was: I've always been reluctant to approach strangers, even store clerks, so Three became my designated price-checker in department stores. We were surprised by how hard he worked: What child practices a trombone for hours at a time, without being reminded? And what kid visits the newspaper office at age 10 to see how soon he can be a paper carrier? Boy#3, that's who. We were surprised by his determination, and the goals he set, but rarely surprised when he reached those goals.

The picture that heads today's post was taken before his senior recital last year, and I mentioned to Three that it's one of my favorites.

"Yeah, I like that one, too," he told me. "I wasn't wearing pants."*

Surprise!

Happy birthday, Boy#3. You never fail to surprise me, and I'm glad I'm your mother. 


*He did later clarify that he'd been wearing shorts when the shot was snapped.