A Real Live Yankee Doodle Dandy

The 4th of July.

A day we celebrate the "birth" of our nation! We take time out of our lives to throw down some hotdogs, shoot some fireworks (oops! no I didn't reveal illegal practices - nope I didn't), and get goosebumps hearing a band play "The Star Spangled Banner". But the Fourth of July marks another, and I believe, far more important event in our house. Celebrating the birth of my own little firecracker - who will be TEN! What? Huh? When?




Evan was born Thursday July 4, 1996, in San Antonio, TX. He was born in room #4, at 4:58pm and weighed in at 8lbs. 8oz. He was actually due on the 9th, but because my doctor was going on vacation, I chose to have him induced on the 4th. I just didn't want to be with a doctor I didn't know, seeing as this was my first baby. Anyway, he was born on the 4th, room #4, at 4:58pm, and he was a boy! Which is absolutely wonderful. Really! It's just that we were expecting a girl! And her name was going to be Sasha, Isabella, Paloma? The truth is we hadn't decided on a name. And when the doctor told us he was a boy, we all laughed - myself, Bubba (my ex - yup, that's what we called him), and my mom. And when mom picked up the phone and called my dad - who had spent the day cleaning out the refrigerator - to let him know the news, he laughed too.

My dad didn't make the trip with my mom because he was in the middle of a show and couldn't leave town. The show, you wonder? "George M." Which, if you don't know anything about the theatre means nothing to you, but George M. Cohen was a pioneer of theatre in this grand ol' USA, and wrote the song we all know and love - "Yankee Doodle Dandy". So, the irony just oozes, doesn't it?

Anyway, back to San Antonio.

I will never forget holding Evan for the first time. He had such substance. I guess I thought he was going to be light, and airy. But he was solid, and warm. His little red face looked worried (oh, if I knew then what I know now...), and his pointed little head was covered in light red hair. He looked like my grandma. My first words to him were, "Hey there Sneakerdoodle." He was my first baby. I was so happy.

So, began the search for boy names. We hadn't considered any. Although I do remember, the whole time I was pregnant, a little voice saying, "What if it's a boy? We need to have a name picked out." I think I knew he was going to be boy all along.

Anyway, after much searching, we settled on a name - Evan.
I love that name. I will always love that name. To me, it's a name that exudes gentle strength. It's a smart name. Refined, but not arrogant. Evan. My Evan. My baby boy, Evan.

Now it's ten years later, and my baby is heading into double digits. DOUBLE DIGITS! He's going to be TEN! And where did all the time go? When I turn around in ten more years, he'll be 20! Whatever.

I know how cliche it is to say the time goes fast. But damn! There's no other way to say it! And the cliche is true! It goes fast!

So, the first real love of my life turns ten this coming Tuesday. And if you happen to remember us while you're eating, shooting fireworks, or getting chills from the spirit of it all, know that I'll be giving him his tenth Fourth of July kiss at exactly 4:58pm.













And just in case you're wondering, Evan has made another post to his blog - letting everyone know what he wants for his birthday. Go check it out! The toys just get more expensive the older he gets. Rest assured, he's not getting item #1.