This is Karl. Today he is 30. If we do the math (which I make every attempt NOT to do) that would mean that I had just turned 24 when he was born. I don't even remember who I was at 24? That was a lifetime ago. Karl's lifetime, to be precise.
I do remember that I was crazy calm all through the pregnancy. Karl's older sister is overwhelmingly handicapped so one would think that I would have the good sense to be mildly terrified, but I wasn't. I was happy. It was back before the days of ultrasound and gender discovery, but we chose only one name. Karl August. I don't know what we would have done if he'd been a girl...but he wasn't.
Every mother should have a boy. Boys are so special and Karl was/is as special as they come. Boys are messy, but in a entirely different sort of way than girls. They are straight forward and funny and incredibly loveable. I wish you all boys. Boys like Karl, except not Karl. He is all mine and I'm just SO proud to say so. (Santa, I know that he is really all yours, but you know what I mean.)
I realize the picture is kind of grainy; probably taken with a cellphone, but look how happy he is! It was in Las Vegas and he was going to get married. Did, in fact, get married. Good times. Karl is this sort of facinating mix of zen and hilarity. He is quiet, a little stoic, and then he'll say something just nuts and the place falls apart. He is a wonderful uncle to The Marvelous Miss C. I cannot, can.not wait until he is a father.
So happy birthday, Karl. Thirty isn't so bad and it honestly just keeps getting better from here. I hope you celebrate well for there are few as worthy of celebration as you. Thanks for picking me to be your Mother. I could not love you more.
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