Happy B-day fuzzy shmo

Ahh, the 21st birthday of my baby!  I remember the day like it was yesterday…and what mother’s heart ever recalls a child’s birthday differently? Twenty one years ago, right about this time, I laid down for the night…and my water broke.  I was no stranger to this; my firstborn was the same way, water breaking at bedtime, two weeks early, and wait all night and no labor…
 
So Good Friday  morning found me going to work to finish some paperwork before I headed to the hospital.  I was mentally set to go, to wing it, this was after all, number three…lol, nothin to it.
 
But alas, my friend of many years already, (and still) Tammy, refused to let me go alone.  Sometimes it is just easier to give in than to argue…
 
I arrived at the hospital on this cold but gloriously clear and sunny day, by perhaps, 10:30 am.   Labor was induced before noon.
 
And that sweet little dark haired boy was born at 4:26 pm. ♥  He was 6 lbs. 15 oz. and beautiful. ♥ I had a local, but nothing to numb my mind…nothing to cast a fog over this sweet memory. ♥
 
I brought him home on Easter Sunday…and we spent Sunday night on the family homestead (at my mom’s insistence) and he really did sleep in one of my old dresser drawers!
 
Monday afternoon, it was incredibly warm for so early in the spring, and I took him and Zigzee and Natters home to where I rented.
 
So with the speed of light, 21 years has flown past and my ‘fuzzy shmo’ is still a beautiful sight!  Long curly hair…I suppose that if the curls were straightened out, it might even be longer than mine.
 
He has always been the leader of the pack…and from kindergarten on, he was surrounded by his own universe, and friends were attracted to that universe.  He is shy in many situation, masquerading as indifferent.  But do not be fooled; he misses nothing.
 
His mind is a steel trap for details, and he loves history.  World history, American history, military history, it is what he is passionate about.  😦 but I have yet to convince him that his butt should be in school, becoming a teacher of that history that he holds so dear).  Just last night we had a discussion about lineage…about the Hessians in his line on one side, and Stonewall Jackson in his line on the other side…
 
He loves the PGH Steelers and the Penguins (note the black and gold of this blog!)
 
He loves animals. He is the most tenderhearted person that i have ever known when it comes to animals…
 
Funny, tears to my eyes funny in fact, and quick witted to boot.
 
But the one thing that I am most proud of him for is his sense of justice, equality and fairness…and that he has the backbone to live what he believes… If you met him, you would likely think that he is indifferent about a lot of things, in fact, you might even take away from that meeting, that he is no great lover of people…but the truth of it is this; he is so often dissappointed with the way that people behave…that he guards himself and those that he loves closely.
 
When he was in sixth grade, and all of the students were thrown together in the new middle school for the first year… there was a boy iin his grade that was brunt of every joke, every cruel trick that 11 and 12 year olds could think of…and he had no friends. Josh C. hated the world, hated school, hated himself…all at the hands of other children’s opinion of him.
 
My son got off of the school bus one day, and I asked him, "How was your day?"
His normal response was, (while smiling) "It was a day".
 
But on this particular day, he was thinking…and wondering about people, about other kids and the level of cruelty that they are capable of.
 
He told me that in the lunchroom (200 students, all 6th graders) Josh C. had gotten his lunch, and was wandering from table to table carrying his tray. He would start to sit down and the kids already there would yell at him to leave, just go, "You can’t sit here!"  As he approached D.C.’s (my son) table, D.C. did not even wait for him to give that pleading look. He told him "Josh, you can sit here."
 
It sounds like such a small gesture…and why am I so proud of it?  Because he was the lone student oin that lunchroom with a comfortable self identity perhaps…who understood that Josh really did not have any kind of cooties or curse that could brush off from having him so near…
 
And at that very tender age, he was not afraid to go against the tide…knowing full well that what the other sixth graders said about it, about any of it…Josh, him, his friends…did not make it the truth just because they said it.  That was a tough act in 6th grade…
 
My baby, still in your face honest, independent thinker, smart, handsome, funny..and all grown up!  I love him bunches…and bunches…and bunches… 🙂
 
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About Teresa Cypher

I live with my husband in a humble house in the middle of a tall stand of hardwoods, bordered by soybean and corn fields, in western Pennsylvania. Mother of three adult children and "Grammie" to one sweet little girl, I revel in family gatherings and celebrations. My husband and I care for the gardens on our property--our little corner of heaven, have a glass of wine at sunset, and like to watch the stars come out. Currently working in QC and Development for a Bio-technology Company that produces green, agricultural products. I came into the world a creator of stories. Having been born into a litter, the 7th of 8 children, in a farming family, I have spent most of my life trying to be an individual. My dreams took me there. From the time I was a little girl, I was a thinker, spending any time I could find to be alone--the bastion of undisturbed thoughts, dreaming of other worlds and of fairy-tale love. My mind never shut off-- through the years when thoughts allowed me to escape the everyday world of farm life, to the daydreams while I was raising children and being the cook, the baker, the candlestick maker,and the taxi driver-- all while working full time. It took until middle age for me to realize that my meandering mind was writing stories! Once I sat down and started typing, it took 2 months to write my first book. My biggest challenge at first was getting my fingers to type fast enough to keep up with my mind. My daughter bought me a small digital recorder so I could save my thoughts until my fingers could catch up. The story that I wrote, Across The Night Sky ,was years in the making, and timed well...after I had experienced real life and the joys and heartaches it brings. I think that time gave me a well-spring of experiences from which to merge fairy-tale love with the cynicism adult life creates--while never losing sight of the beautiful and wonderful that love is. Writing is my passion...this incredible discovery in mid life that often keeps me up till the wee hours of the morning. I am so very fortunate to have the opportunity to devote my time to something that brings me such joy.
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