As usual this time of year, Miss Lo — our grandbaby, who is not a baby anymore — had a birthday. And we had a party.
I’ll never forget the day she was born. The doctor told us just a few days before that there was a problem and that she would have to induce labor. She said Lo would weigh 5 pounds, 13 ounces. Oddly, she weighed 6 pounds exactly but was born at 5:13 a.m. Easy for me to remember. She was crying her newborn eyes out until I called her name. She stopped abruptly and turned her head to look right at me, even though she probably couldn’t see me. We belonged to each other from that moment.
For her first birthday we had a big celebration in Texas with the Martinez side of her family. After that, we moved back here and brought her with us, so the Martinez contingent has come to Magnolia in November ever since, piñata and presents in tow.
Her second birthday, again, was more a celebration for the adults in attendance than for her because she was still too young to understand what was going on. And because we didn’t know any 2-year-olds to invite other than relatives. I cooked, Scott cooked, and we put on a spread for those who came. We’ve followed suit ever since, although nowadays there are more children on hand.
This year, the days before, during, and after Miss Lo’s birthday celebration nearly put me under. I’m pretty sure that age (mine, not hers) has something to do with that.
Friday: I took off work to clean our filthy house. I’m not exaggerating — it was filthy. Our friend Brenda — a whirling dervish who used to work with us at the cafeteria — came to help after she cleaned another house that morning. I had been cleaning since 9:30 a.m. We both stayed at it until after 5 p.m., although I did leave in the midst of the drudgery to get food for the party and start doing some prep/cooking. My arthritic back was screaming at me by the time we knocked off, but the house looked great.
Lo’s daddy, Leo, his girlfriend, and her two redheaded little boys came in about 7 p.m. and wanted to go out to eat. After that, I was beyond tired and cranky. I had a hard time getting to sleep that night, which happens sometimes when one is in pain and too tired.
Saturday: That morning started off with Leo and Amanda dropping off the boys with us so they could go get last minute party items. Leo was supposed to be back at our place to help Scott set up the bouncy house we rented (another tradition), but they spent so long at Walmart that a dad who brought his two little girls for the party ended up helping (thanks, David).
Scott had two grills going for wings, hotdogs, and hamburgers. Joe and Yolanda, aka Grandpa and Grandma Martinez, came in from Texas just before noon. We ended up with 24 total for the party. Everybody ate, sang to Lo, had cake, watched her open presents, and then we had the annual pummeling of the piñata in the back yard. If you’ve never done it, I’ve got to tell you how much fun it is to watch the kids take their turns trying to break open a piñata and to see their faces when the candy finally comes flying out.
Eventually, Leo took Lo back to the motel to spend the night with him and Amanda and the boys, and we finally got some quiet. A lot of the carnage from the party was still left to deal with, though. “Maybe next week,” I kept telling myself.
Sunday: Leo was supposed to be at our house by 8 a.m. to help roll up and load the bouncy house into a friend’s truck. He didn’t show up until 10:30, by which time it had been raining heavily for over an hour. Big, wet, heavy, vinyl bouncy houses are not easy to deal with, as it turns out.
Leo and his crew were hungry. Scott went to get more eggs and sausage because none of us had had breakfast. I cooked more than a dozen eggs, sausage patties, biscuits, and hash browns. But, even with a belly full of breakfast and Leo’s experience as a weight lifter, the menfolk couldn’t get the ridiculously heavy bouncy house loaded onto another friend’s truck. So Leo’s crew hit the road, bound for Texas, and we were left with a soggy bouncy house rolled up on the carport.
After our second day of guests left, I went downtown to take pics of the Holiday Open House that was going on around the square and elsewhere. Despite intermittent rain, hundreds of cheery folks turned out for that. At 5:15 p.m. I got a reminder (I had, indeed, forgotten) that the lighting of Wilson Garden was happening at 5:30, so off I went to take pics of that. Then I went home and cooked supper.
I try not to whine, but those three days were a trial. Next year will have to be different unless I pull an Oprah Winfrey and somehow lose 50 pounds and find a wizard to take 20 years off my aching body. Scott proclaimed 2017 to be “The End of the Bouncy House Era.” It was bound to happen. That doesn’t mean Miss Lo’s parties will be any less fun.