This is my Jordan, age about three, curls tamed
but the shyest child you've ever meet
If you know her today, you'd never believe she was shy
I don't remember my fortieth--it was just pre-divorce and probably not a jolly affair. But we have always made a big deal of changing decades in our family. My seventieth, for instance, was a marvelous affair, memories to last a lifetime.
The youngest of my four turns forty--actually Tuesday but the family celebration--with a hundred of her nearest and dearest--is today. Jordan has milked thirty-nine for everything it's worth and will welcome forty with a huge bang. Unbelievable. Yesterday, she was a tousled curly-headed toddler; today she is a beautiful poised young woman, wife and mother, and oh-so-outgoing. A friend of mine once said, "Jordan gives you the feeling she's been waiting all day just to see you."
We had a slam-bang birthday party at Joe T.'s tonight. She has gathered about her a loving crowd of beautiful young people, and a bonus for me--most of them treat me like a second mom. There were her friends, her husband's friends, my neighbors who are family, friends of mine, parents of her friends, the people she works with--an eclectic mix of people. And it was lots of fun.
The Alter bad luck spring break followed true to form though--my oldest, Colin, and his family drove straight home from Colorado, not even stopping to pick up the clothes they'd left here. Colin and his daughter had a week of the flu, and they didn't need a party--they just needed to get home. And then the Austin contingent went to board a plan to DFW only to find it had been oversold. They found seats for Megan and the boys--but Brandon came on a later flight. And by the time I got to the party my voice was gone. My brother and his family were all sick and absent. I may never welcome spring break again.
Tuesday, St. Patrick's Day, is Jordan's real birthday, and I'm looking forward to a special lunch with her. Meantime I'm adjusting to the fact that all four of my kids are now in their forties--that's middle age, isn't it? I still think I'm middle-aged. Something is amuck here.