Yesterday we celebrated our middle kid’s 23rd birthday. Seems like it wasn’t that long ago I had her sitting on my knee making her dance like a disco 6-month old, her stoic face never flinching as she gyrated to “Boogie Oogie Oogie”.
Out of our three children, our middle child was our roughest parenting road to travel(at least until our son hit 9th grade and seemingly just shut down for a school year.) She was the most stubborn when it came to breastfeeding, she had a hard time talking and needed speech therapy for a while, she was sick a lot with chest colds and asthma, and she’s what you’d call…stubborn.
Is it the curse of the middle child in action? I don’t know, maybe. I think what it really is is that she just did things her way, and that was the only way she was going to do it. I get that because I’m the same way. I didn’t join trends, I avoided them. I liked what I liked and I didn’t care what you or anyone else liked. I almost stubbornly avoided what everyone else was raving about.
But by the time our middle kid got into middle school she was one of the sweetest kids you’d meet. Her and her younger brother were inseparable at home, while our oldest sort of became more quiet and reserved, content to be left alone and get lost in a book. They would occasionally join in the younger ones reindeer games, but for the most our oldest was content in their own little world(they turned 26 last week, btw.)
So last night we went to a place called Union 12 to celebrate the big 23, which is an events center located out in the middle of a cornfield between the towns of Columbia City and Fort Wayne. It’s a lovely place, with a large building for indoor activities, as well as a large patio area with tables where people can hang out and listen to live music. Last night it was the all-female cover band Whoa, Man, performing. They are fantastic, btw. They’re a 6-pc band, but last night it was just three of the ladies performing acoustically. Stunning three-part harmonies, great cover songs(Fleetwood Mac, Jim Croce, Cyndi Lauper), and they knew how to woo a crowd.
Along with the entertainment there were 7 different food trucks, and to top it all off it was dog night, so everyone could bring their pooches. There were even a few kitties as well. We saw one cat chilling in a stroller eyeing all the manic dogs as they sniffed where the previous dogs had been.
Of course we brought our Celeste, even gussied her up in her butterfly sweatshirt(complete with wings.) We met our daughter there as she had to be in Fort Wayne earlier in the day for appointments and decided driving home then back again would be a waste of gas. We made our way around this fantastic piece of land which included lots of grassy areas for kids to run around and throw balls; or for families to sit in the grass and enjoy the lovely evening while eating. And the dogs…wow. It was a four-legged wonderland. Dogs of every size and shape; from Chihuahuas to Bull Mastiffs and Irish Wolfhounds to French Bulldogs. It was a dog lover’s dream, really.
Celeste seemed excited, but also kind of overwhelmed. I don’t blame her, I felt a little overwhelmed myself. Just A LOT of people for a Wednesday evening. It was nice, regardless. We got dinner from a place called Mercado, which is a Mexican restaurant out of Fort Wayne. I got a very good burger from them, while my wife got Carne Asada loaded fries and the birthday girl got tacos. Food was all very good.
Two of our daughter’s best friends met us there a little after 7pm. My wife bought Celeste a handmade collar that our daughter put together for her at one of the vendors there. We then offered to take Celeste home so the three of them could walk around peacefully and not worry about Cece getting any more manic than she already was.
Like I said, it was a nice evening and I think our daughter had a very nice birthday. It’s just crazy to me to think it’s been 23 years. Time does fly, even though nothing ever changes about time. There’s always the same 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an our, 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, and 52 weeks in a year. What changes how it feels is how you spend those seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks. If you’re miserable, or just haven’t found your groove then it’s going to move like normal. Maybe even feel like it’s slowing down. But if you fill that time with people you love and things you love doing and live the hell out of life then that’s when it feels like it’s flying by.
I think I’m living the hell out of life, folks.
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