According to Mom, when March 16, 1966 strode in, ~12:15-12:30 a.m. I strode in with it and I came out without much of a bother [her words].
It seems character sets in from the womb because my life's motto has been not to step on any toes or be bothersome to others.
Here's to some more twisting and climbing until 46.
- Tip of the hat to fellow Flickr user 67Bosely for allowing his/her lovely photo to be used on blogs.
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Mar 16, 2011
Dec 9, 2010
Happy Birthday to Daughter#1 & Nephew#1!
Daughter#1 turned 22 on December 7th and Nephew#1 turned 4 on December 8th!
Jul 2, 2010
Happy Sweet 16 Birthday Cupcakes
16 candles, 16 cupcakes awkwardly formed into the number 16 for Daughter#2 who turns (what else?) 16!
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 16, 2010
When I was 43
When I was 43... I lost my best friend, to cancer.
Eleni and I were together for 17 years, the better part of my (so far) adult life. It felt as if a large chunk of my heart had been torn out with her passing.
When I was 43... my last living grandparent, my mother's mother, aged 98, passed away.
I am no longer anyone's granddaughter and my inner child doesn't like it at all.
When I was 43... Daughter#1, my eldest, spread her wings and flew away to another country for her studies.
It's a proud moment when your child is out on her own for the first time and doing very well in another country nonetheless.
It's a bittersweet feeling that as "Mommy" you're not in demand as much any more.
When I was 43... a homecoming took place that put my heart at ease and I was able to hug my father again.
Last night, a quarter past midnight, I turned 44.
Eleni and I were together for 17 years, the better part of my (so far) adult life. It felt as if a large chunk of my heart had been torn out with her passing.
When I was 43... my last living grandparent, my mother's mother, aged 98, passed away.
I am no longer anyone's granddaughter and my inner child doesn't like it at all.
When I was 43... Daughter#1, my eldest, spread her wings and flew away to another country for her studies.
It's a proud moment when your child is out on her own for the first time and doing very well in another country nonetheless.
It's a bittersweet feeling that as "Mommy" you're not in demand as much any more.
When I was 43... a homecoming took place that put my heart at ease and I was able to hug my father again.
Last night, a quarter past midnight, I turned 44.
Jul 2, 2009
Mar 22, 2009
Jul 5, 2008
Happy Belated Blog Birthday Post for Daughter#2
Dear Daughter#2,
I know you hate having your birthday on July 2nd. Trust me I didn't plan on making your life miserable like this. Summer birthdays suck.
School's out and most of your friends have left with their families for summer holidays or they've been shipped off to their villages where hapless grandparents have the task of looking after them.
When you were younger we scheduled your birthday party in early June instead of July and all your classmates were invited. Those were good times when you didn't care about the date, the cake or food, as long as your friends came, which they did.
Since last year however, things have changed. You informed me that most of the parties you've been to this (and last) year were boring. Unsurprisngly, gathering at your friends' houses eating little spinach pies, with Michalis Hatziyiannis (who you abhor) blaring from the stereo and a bunch of adults (relatives) in the kitchen smoking their hearts out, just doesn't it cut it for you as a party.
Now that you have finished your second year of junior high school (gymnasio) you want a little more action, a little more sophistication. Unfortunately, your plan to take a few friends to the nearest cinemaplex for lunch, a movie and few bumper car rides didn't work out this June. I know it's not the same but September is near so you can postpone your birthday outing util then.
The good news is that on the day you were born your grandmother returned from her trip with tidings that your grandfather had been found, is well and things are hopeful. We all got together for dinner and we surprised you with a humble birthday cake (which we kept telling you we forgot to buy). It was a tiny get together but you were beaming nonetheless. When you kissed me good-night you told me how happy you were that we were all together that day and you thanked me and your father for making your birthday nice.
My heart skipped a beat at the thought of how I almost might not have had you in my embrace at that moment. I recalled the day you were born 14 years ago and how the doctors in the neonatal intensive care unit had informed your father and I to prepare ourselves for the worst, that you might not make it.
It was the first of two times in my life that doctors have looked me in the eye and yanked my heart out. You proved them wrong. And we are so grateful and lucky to have you.
Happy Birthday kid.
Thank you for you.
Mama
since I started blogging: for your 13th birthday, for your 12th birthday
Mar 16, 2008
42
42. The answer to the ultimate question, "Life, the Universe, and Everything".
When asked why 42, the humorous and insightful Douglas Adams replied: "The answer to this is very simple. It was a joke. It had to be a number, an ordinary, smallish number, and I chose that one. Binary representations, base thirteen, Tibetan monks are all complete nonsense. I sat at my desk, stared into the garden and thought '42 will do' I typed it out. End of story."
I turned 42 at a quarter past midnight.
It's a good number to be in. You've lived enough to know not to panic. End of story.
When asked why 42, the humorous and insightful Douglas Adams replied: "The answer to this is very simple. It was a joke. It had to be a number, an ordinary, smallish number, and I chose that one. Binary representations, base thirteen, Tibetan monks are all complete nonsense. I sat at my desk, stared into the garden and thought '42 will do' I typed it out. End of story."
I turned 42 at a quarter past midnight.
It's a good number to be in. You've lived enough to know not to panic. End of story.
Dec 7, 2007
Jul 2, 2007
Mar 16, 2007
Dec 7, 2006
Oct 13, 2006
This one's for you Chris!
Today is Chris' birthday. Chris is not only a friend, he is also the head of my workplace's IT department. Chris is a great get-together, fun, open-minded, accomodative fellow; he's my PC guru, master of all 0s and 1s, my Gandalf in the realm of computer programming for 17 years.
I was but a a humble typist back when we first met. He had come to upgrade our DOS based Volkswriter word processor to Windows 3.1. and Microsoft Word 2.0. I ooohed and aaaahed at how easy it was to to add headers and footers and by Jove! it could add footnotes! I was the first typist (we were three) to fully appreciate this new innovation by some guy named Gates. (And... it EVEN had minesweeper, awesome.!)
Chris probably realized early on that he would have his hands full with me when I first fiddled with the control panel making the work page AND the lettering white and then freaking out that I couldn't see WTF I was typing. He was called in that day for emergency PC mouth-to-mouth. He looked at the screen, looked at shamefaced me, raised an interrogative eyebrow and mouthed the momentous query that was to follow us throughout our friendship and collaboration. What. did. you. do. to. it?
Many a time he has come to my rescue. Lost files, misguided mouse clicks, unsuccessful OS formats, you name it I've pulled my hair out over it however, my friend waved his wand and made it all better. Chris first introduced me to the phrase "there are no stupid questions, only stupid answers". Encouraged by this motto, I've bombarded him with any silly computer thing that came to mind. He always answers.
So, in light of your birthday Chris (Friday the 13th is a bummer, I assume) I dedicate this post to you. I thank you for all the times you could have strangled me - but didn't, all the the times you could have just told me to "look it up" - but didn't, all the times we've sat over some machine and crossed our fingers it would come back to life - most did.
Happy Birthday!
Work-related posts:
All in a day's work, You any good with computers Part I, Part II, Ummm, my computer won't start, What does your mommy do, little girl?
.
I was but a a humble typist back when we first met. He had come to upgrade our DOS based Volkswriter word processor to Windows 3.1. and Microsoft Word 2.0. I ooohed and aaaahed at how easy it was to to add headers and footers and by Jove! it could add footnotes! I was the first typist (we were three) to fully appreciate this new innovation by some guy named Gates. (And... it EVEN had minesweeper, awesome.!)
Chris probably realized early on that he would have his hands full with me when I first fiddled with the control panel making the work page AND the lettering white and then freaking out that I couldn't see WTF I was typing. He was called in that day for emergency PC mouth-to-mouth. He looked at the screen, looked at shamefaced me, raised an interrogative eyebrow and mouthed the momentous query that was to follow us throughout our friendship and collaboration. What. did. you. do. to. it?
Many a time he has come to my rescue. Lost files, misguided mouse clicks, unsuccessful OS formats, you name it I've pulled my hair out over it however, my friend waved his wand and made it all better. Chris first introduced me to the phrase "there are no stupid questions, only stupid answers". Encouraged by this motto, I've bombarded him with any silly computer thing that came to mind. He always answers.
So, in light of your birthday Chris (Friday the 13th is a bummer, I assume) I dedicate this post to you. I thank you for all the times you could have strangled me - but didn't, all the the times you could have just told me to "look it up" - but didn't, all the times we've sat over some machine and crossed our fingers it would come back to life - most did.Happy Birthday!
Work-related posts:
All in a day's work, You any good with computers Part I, Part II, Ummm, my computer won't start, What does your mommy do, little girl?
.
Jul 5, 2006
Daughter#2 turned 12
Sunday was Daughter#2's 12th birthday. I just got done with one teenager and now I'm bracing myself for round number 2. This one's witnessed her sister's teen years and has picked up a few pointers along the way. Something tells me she might turn out to be a handful and bit more rebellious. Either I'll be keeping you posted Internet or I'll be heavily sedated.
It feels really strange that everywhere we go, anyone who sees us together, tells us how much we look alike. Daughter#1 looks more like her Dad, whereas Daughter#2 is undeniably my spitting image. I don't know if this is a good thing; but we have wide smiles and eyes that squint when we laugh. Because of this we were both called "China girls" in school. Daughter#2 has mentally recorded and reproduced any funny face I come up with, although her Dad is always asking her to be more serious and stop horsing around. (Then I go and make a horse sound in the background and Dad throws his papers in the air in a desperate act of surrender).
This year, instead of the annual birthday party we decided to organize something smaller. This turned out be a lot more fun than a bunch of noisy kids running around, wreaking havoc, asking if the birthday cake comes in other flavours, and why we have so many drawers in the bathroom, and is the neighbour's dog supposed to be sleeping with its legs in the air. I took the Birthday Girl, her bestest friend in the whole wide world and her sister ("I'm just tagging along to keep you company Mom", my foot) to the amusement park. We had fun and they even managed to talk me into driving a bumper car; where I got pretty banged up because other people's kids thought I was teasing them when I waved them away, "please don't crash into me".
Got sunburnt, drank slurpies (frozen juice), went on rides, saw a silly movie, Birthday Girl won herself a teddy bear, ate out. Came home exhausted yet suprisingly refreshed. The girls were pleased and my little Birthday Girl thanked me for "the best birthday ever". Wait until she discovers alcohol.
.
It feels really strange that everywhere we go, anyone who sees us together, tells us how much we look alike. Daughter#1 looks more like her Dad, whereas Daughter#2 is undeniably my spitting image. I don't know if this is a good thing; but we have wide smiles and eyes that squint when we laugh. Because of this we were both called "China girls" in school. Daughter#2 has mentally recorded and reproduced any funny face I come up with, although her Dad is always asking her to be more serious and stop horsing around. (Then I go and make a horse sound in the background and Dad throws his papers in the air in a desperate act of surrender).
This year, instead of the annual birthday party we decided to organize something smaller. This turned out be a lot more fun than a bunch of noisy kids running around, wreaking havoc, asking if the birthday cake comes in other flavours, and why we have so many drawers in the bathroom, and is the neighbour's dog supposed to be sleeping with its legs in the air. I took the Birthday Girl, her bestest friend in the whole wide world and her sister ("I'm just tagging along to keep you company Mom", my foot) to the amusement park. We had fun and they even managed to talk me into driving a bumper car; where I got pretty banged up because other people's kids thought I was teasing them when I waved them away, "please don't crash into me".
Got sunburnt, drank slurpies (frozen juice), went on rides, saw a silly movie, Birthday Girl won herself a teddy bear, ate out. Came home exhausted yet suprisingly refreshed. The girls were pleased and my little Birthday Girl thanked me for "the best birthday ever". Wait until she discovers alcohol.
.
Dec 7, 2005
Happy 17th Birthday Goth daughter!
Today is a special day here at Flubberwinkle-land. We are celebrating my first-born's 17th birthday. Yup, 17. A year after her sweet 16 and a year before the "official" 18.Old Greek proverb says: "mother owl thinks her owlet is the most beautiful owlet in the forest" (I'm guessing all owlets are little ugly fuzzy-wuzzy critters). In layman's terms the above saying means: "every mother thinks her child is unique and gorgeous". And I'm no exception.
I love my daughter's singularity, her determination and her incredible sense of humor. She is tough, yet fragile. She is naive, yet smart-alecky enough to hold her own. She is daring, yet principled. She is trying to find her bearings in this world. She is trying to make her mark. She is a teen-ager on the threshold of young adulthood.
She makes me want to be a better person in this life. And no matter how many presents I give her I can never repay her for the joy and wisdom she has given me.
Happy Birthday Goth daughter!
P.S. 17 years ago today the auto-pilot ("just-Athena") was switched to manual controls labeled: "Hey-Mom!"
Oh, yeah, and lest I forget: 17 years ago I found out why they call them labor pains. (Ouch!)
These pics are dedicated to the eldest of my offspring (a.k.a. Wednesday Adams). (Gomez/Daddy says Hello).
Was 42 "The Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything"? Yes, Mr.Adams, although it was just a number you randomly chose for the ending of your book, 42 turned out to be a milestone, a breaking point during my time on Earth with a lot of esoteric conflicts and purgings.
Older? Yes, I feel like I'm 60 instead of 43.
Wiser? I've sucked a lot in and have learned to breathe with it all inside, without exploding. Yeah, maybe, wiser.
(photo credit to co-flickr user: ponyintheair)