Skip to main content

My special day

According to tradition in my family, when it's my birthday (notice I don't say when it's anyone elses birthday), no one can refuse my request. My one request? That my children come with me and sit for this picture.

Photobucket


Well, this one was taken with my cell phone camera. The real one is coming in the next week or so. I've had them taken each and every year since 1989.

That means this girl on the right has been photographed with that jolly man in red every year for 19 years.

Photobucket


The Boy? Every year since 1991.

Photobucket


These two? Every year since 1996 and 1998 resepectively.

Photobucket


I have all the years of Santa pictures in a large frame with beautiful matting. I've filled an entire one up and am three pictures deep into the next one. I hang them up each Christmas and then spend a few moments marveling at the march of time across the faces and bodies of my children. It brings home to me how much has changed---but one thing hasn't and won't ever change. My love for them.

After the Santa picture, we engaged in another family ritual: The purchasing of Christmas ornanments. Each year after the picture, the kids get to pick out one ornament. We hang all the ornaments on the tree each year and when it comes time for them to leave and have families and trees of their own, their personal ornaments will go with them. Ally picked the 2008 Barbie, Ash picked a Hannah Montanna ornament and Chris and Steph each picked snowflakes. We bought the kids gyros and then dropped them off at home and then Lance and I had some alone time.

We drove to the International District, picked up some Japanese food then took it to Highland Park on Queen Anne overlooking the Space Needle. My cell phone doesn't take a great picture in the dark---and it was breathtaking in person---but you get the picture. Sort of.

Photobucket


We watched ferries, all lit up and sliding across the blackness of Puget Sound. Lance sat behind me with his arms around me as we remembered coming there when we first began dating oh-so-many-years ago.

All in all....my special day was a good one.

Comments

  1. "All lit up". You or the ferries? I thought I admonished you to be sober this year?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Did I say happy birthday? I can't remember. I'm sure I must have.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ahhhh....
    Seattle is a beautiful place, filled with beautiful people like you and your family. I LOVE you guys and miss you all!

    Happy birthday!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh Satako, we miss you tooooooo! It's not the same without your pretty smile and your laughter. Please keep in touch and come back to visit if you can!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Vicus, being all lit up is fun! You should try it sometime.

    Oh wait....I think I've seen pictures of you and Tommy all lit up in the 60's. ::grin::

    Dave, yes, I believe you wished me a happy birthday on facebook, but I'll take the second one too! :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. what a perfect day!
    happy birthday pam.
    i love those pics you took of your gorgeous kiddos.
    and we're going saturday to do our santa pics for the 15th year. yikes!

    ReplyDelete
  7. I love those traditions for your birthday! A great way to focus on your family while getting what you want and marveling at your legacy!!! But, no fair, making me miss Seattle even more...man, I need a trip!!!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thanks Kelly! Wow...fifteen years of pics. Where does the time go?

    Rebecca, you DO need a trip. Although I have no room to put you up when you come this time! :( We're kinda sorta cramped right now. But come!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.


The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…

Back

BACK

Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)