I had three babies in the middle of summer. Three girls. What possessed me to have babies in the height of blistering heat is beyond me.
I remember being hugely pregnant and so hot I thought I was damaging my inner organs somehow. I would cry in cold water baths, glaring at my red, itchy stretch marks, begging God to save me from myself. Here's what I learned: Wailing in the tub to God does no good. If the babies are supposed to be late, they will be late no matter what you promise God in return for a sooner delivery. You just have to heave yourself out of the tub and go watch Wimbledon to make it through the days. And make sure the freezer is stocked with ice cream.
My first baby was nine days late and my second was eleven days late, both in the humid heat of Wisconsin. My third girl but fourth baby was born on her due date but only because I begged to be induced. For the record, my son was induced five days late, but it was February, and I hadn't reached heat-exhausted hysteria yet.
So now my girls are growing up. Now we celebrate all their summer birthdays. They cascade like a waterfall, one after another for an entire month. It starts with the fourth of July and all that hoopla. After the barbecues, fireworks and parades, we start gearing up for Adrienne's birthday. Her most memorable party was her fourth one, where I spent all might making a baby doll cake worthy of serious preservation for all generations. I couldn't keep my eyes open at the party, but that was the cutest darn cake ever.
Then it's time for Leah's birthday--my third girl. Her most memorable was her fourth as well, when we transformed the backyard into a fairy wonderland and all the little girls wore pink and played fairy games. I remember wearing pink myself. I love pink.
Then comes Samantha's birthday, my second daughter. Our sunflowers are always in full bloom on her birthday, and so she has always loved that majestic, cheerful flower. I am sad to say I don't remember in detail any of her parties. She will be upset about this. But I know what we're doing this year. We're going to a space center where the kids get to be in command of a space ship. See, I'm not a total loser, Sammie!
By now it's the second week of August and although it has been a blast, I'm completely partied out and broke. It's kind of like Christmas in the middle of the summer. I always wonder what my son thinks, with all these girls having parties all summer. I hope he doesn't feel bad. I try to make his birthday special in February when it's not hot at all. Plus, he still gets to come to the party and eat birthday cake with melted ice cream.