My Quinnie the Pooh turned four on Sunday. In true crazed mom style, we celebrated for the whole Week. He had a party on Wednesday at daycare, then a weekend sleepover Friday and Saturday at Grandma and Papa’s and finally the big party on Sunday. Birthdays are a very big deal in this house because you are only a kid once.
Quinn is the love of my life, just as Liam and AvaRose are. He amazes me everyday and I still can’t understand how someone produced by the same parents can be on the other end of the spectrum as his brother, as far as personality is concerned. He is more about the celebration than the receiving of presents. He doesn’t have any idea what he wants for his birthday or what type of theme he wants for his party, he just wants to have a great time. He knows he wants balloons and he knows he wants company and that is it.
I brought my little Saint Francis to the petting zoo for the first part of our celebration. He greeted each and every animal ever so gently, he whispered in their ears that he was here to take care of them and not to worry. He approached them softly and quietly as not to scare them and he loved each and every one of them. He was amused by the monkeys but not loving the noisy peacocks. He scolded them, as well as the bearded goats who fought constantly. “Knock it off, ya jackass.” he yelled. Not exactly appropriate language for a four-year old, but I ignored it, hoping it would stop. He reveled in the joy of being four, celebrating his day with the animals. He even went for a pony ride, which in the past had been to scary. His only concern this time was that the pony would eat him and that the pony was walking in its own poop. Funny, that his brother had just fallen off the pony while demonstrating to Quinn how safe a pony ride is. Oddly he was not concerned about falling off the pony. Poop was the issue of the day and once it was noticed in the pony corral, it was noticed and discussed at every exhibit thereafter.
“There is poop on my shoes. I am standing in poop. Look, the cow is pooping. There is poop falling out of that goats ass. Grandma has poop stuck to her shoe. Where did all this poop come from? Is this poop coming home with us?”
You get the idea, but no worries, it wasn’t a shitty day. It was great. It was loaded with excitement, wonder and an appreciation for all living things. My boy just took it all in and thanked his grandparents and his mom for all of his wonderful birthday “stuff”.
I am so happy, my heart is overflowing. I am happy because Quinn is happy and I am happy because I have him and he is mine.
I wanted this child so badly and I waited for him for a long time. I had several miscarriages in between having Liam and having Quinn, and after those, I couldn’t get pregnant at all. I had actually just decided that we were blessed with a beautiful, healthy child in Liam and if he is all I am meant to have, I am happy. Two weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Quinn. I had a healthy, normal pregnancy only to labor for 23 hours and hemorrhage badly after his birth. My husband was totally freaked out about it and we had made a conscious decision that Quinn would be our last baby. God had other plans for us, but we didn’t know that yet.
He was the easiest baby ever. Just the most content, quiet and happy child and he still is. He is extremely silly and very mischievous, but loving and kind and hysterically funny. I am happy because when I had AvaRose, I felt like I broke his little heart. It is only recently that he has realized that she is not a threat and that mama really does love him just as much now as I did before Rosebud came along. He is my pal and my heart and he knows I love his little face and his inappropriate commentary about his own penis. I love that he is so small and so skinny and a total ass kicker at the same time. His brother is three times his size and Quinn takes no shit from him and I am so happy about that. I am happy because nothing phases him, nothing ruins his good time or takes away from his enjoyment of the simplest things. I am happy because I am his. So I celebrated him and his birthday in true crazy mom style, because that is how I roll. While I enjoy all of the celebrating, it is bittersweet for me. I don’t want him to grow up. I want to freeze time and keep him just as he is now. I want him to always be happy with the simple things and I want to always be the one he runs to when he needs something fixed. I want to always have the ability to fix the things that need fixing. But I know that isn’t realistic and I know that he has to grow up, despite my hoping he won’t and babying him just a little bit more than I did his older brother.
Happy Birthday, Quinn. May your greatest worry in life be the goat poop stuck on the bottom of your shoe.