Well, yes, I suppose it is true that thirty-one years ago today I was feeling a bit fed up with the baby girl lingering around inside of me. I had calculated my due date as being at least 10 days before July 25 (1990), but there I was, big as a barn, rounder with that pregnancy than any other, and feeling far more apt to eat an entire vat of ice cream than I ever did with either Reuben or Laura. Caity Baby had a way of making me do things I really didn't want to do, not really, but maybe just inside my head -- and of course, my belly. I think I ate more Mexican food with her too; which now makes a bit more sense considering how spicy the girl is. Mom always said she cursed me with a kid just like myself, and well, thirty-one years ago today, I gave birth to her FINALLY!
I say "finally" because I had done the math according to the way I'd always managed to do it before. I looked on my calendar and figured out when the first day my last period was, and then counted 280 days from the day I would have most likely have ovulated. It's supposed to be that way, there's science behind this, right? Nothing is the same as it should be when Caity is involved. She has her own drummers playing the beats she insists that they play! She dances when she wants to dance, and by "when" I mean whenever she damn well feels like it - - morning, noon, or night. At least with Laura I knew there would be no dancing until after the noon hour, and you know, well into the early hours, but I was asleep by that time. Caity has no time schedule. You just freakin' never know when she'll pop up, and what she'll be doing when she does. It's sort of annoying in a very familiar way.
When the brat was only two I took her in tow to fulfil a wee job that Laura had managed to obtain on her own, at the age of 3. It was a modeling gig for a shoe company that had a franchise. I had purchased a pair of their shoes the week or so before for Laura, and while she was trying them on she did a little run-way walk thingy and looked incredibly cute - - they wanted her for a live modeling performance and it paid a little, so yeah, why not? Why not? Why not you ask? Because Caity Baby Baby Caity, or CBBC as I called her, hadn't been asked to go. Laura had been asked, but CBBC was not asked. That can't happen, and this was probably the first time we found that out to be true. From the SECOND Laura began attracting attention from workers at the store, and then (God forbid) customers, Caity was incredibly jealous of her sister and wouldn't share Laura with anyone. It wasn't that Laura was on stage. It wasn't that the lights were focused on Laura and not Caity, the fact was that LAURA wasn't paying her due diligent attention to Caity - - and that just was not going to set well.
Minute by minute, throughout the afternoon gig, I was literally wrangling the little one, pulling her from her sissy so Laura could get as many customers to buy the shoes and clothing from the store. I thought I was going to have to hogtie my own kid but thought even though I'm in Oklahoma, that may not be a welcomed sight for most. As it turns out the gig only lasted about an hour, and we were free to return to the homestead, where I could divvy out ice cream to them both, and to their big brother who had patiently waited at home with their dad. Why Caity went was probably only to be with her sister, who I suppose was never REALLY supposed to look at another human in CBBC's presence.
When I describe Caity to people I find that I pull out the firecracker analogy more often than not. I say she's like a blasting bottle rocket! You see her for a second, hear something, know there's going to be a big bang and wild surprise in just a few seconds, but when it happens, though you knew it was going to, you are struck with awe at the beauty of it, and the magnitude of it - - each flaming spark capable of searing your soul if you stand too close, and the majesty of it captures you forever. That pretty much describes my baby gir. (I've always said "gir", not girl, because that's what her sister Laura called her.) CBBC never lets you forget - - not then, not now, that she's over and above you about to explode and when she does it will be both glorious and dangerous, so it's best to be prepared for anything.
Today, I celebrate with her, and I love her. I see that over the past 31 years this little sprite of a bairn has grown into the most wonderful woman and mother of two precious grands that anyone could ask for. She's married an amazing man, who if I had to be honest, I would keep if she threw him out on his ear. He'll never be homeless -- sorry CBBC, you just picked a really good one, so you might have to keep him around. I don't think Brandon will be leaving her side anytime this millennium. He knows where his heart fell - - and he knows she holds it with both hands. Happy birthday littlest brat of mine. You were always the spark, and by spark I mean the one who actually set the fires in the house, outside the house, around the corner, up the street, in the church, and just about everywhere else you thought I never knew about -- yeah, you're my curse; remember that. I know everything!
Now.
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