The Ed Zone

Cinco de Mayo Nino

Thursday May 4, 2006 | 11 comments (now closed)

Happy birthday, Colin.

Today is Colin’s third birthday. For those of you short the Advanced Math degree, I’ve done a little rudimentary arithmetic for you. Take 2006 – subtract the three – carry the one – divide by the coefficient of x and that means he was born sometime around May 5, 782 A.D. Great… maybe he can give me all the true life dirt on The Da Vinci Code.

Seriously though, Colin was born on May 5th, 2003. Some people have a Baby New Year. We had a Cinco De Mayo Baby. The only difference there is the doctor secretly replaces your epidural with 22000 CC’s of Corona. Same diff, really!!! (Somewhere, the fine frat boys of Chug-a-lug House are ringing up medical supply stores everywhere.)

Anyway, it seems so long ago, which is a testament to how old I’m aging and how big my little boy is getting. Granted three years – when measured in my life time, feels like a penny in a fountain – but those three years are my son’s whole life. And to him, that is a major expanse of time. I mean, in that time, he breathed air for the first time, let out his first blessed cry, calmed the rapid-fire beating of his heart to the soothing thumping of his parents’ life force, found two souls who instantly bonded with him and fell into that tightly woven security blanket that only a parent’s love can impart. And that’s just the first day.

I won’t delve into every little detail, every moment that makes a life – for there’s so many moments and so little time… and a great deal of those memories I hold private – but there are a few I wanted to touch upon.

In those hazy, crazy days following Colin’s birth, I remember Andi and I were doing anything we could possible do to try to catch some sleep. Even when we did get Colin to sleep, it’s not like you could just flip a switch and slip into slumber yourself. By the time you finally dozed, the tempest had risen from the nursery once again.

One morning – on week two – after a long, tumultuous night, I decided that I would take Colin for a ride (destination unknown) – thereby bringing peace to the house and letting Andi get a few hours of much needed shut-eye. I rose from the bed about 4 a.m., packed Colin in his car seat, and hit the open road – headed for Plymouth. Driving in the pre-dawn hours, I got to collect my thoughts and realize that as bad as things may seem, nothing grand and glorious doesn’t come without a little bit of work. All it took was one glance at my little boy’s peaceful countenance (the motion of the road worked wonders as a lullaby) to realize that a little bout of insomnia was such a small price to pay for access to the world’s riches.

Ultimately we made it to Plymouth. I drove around the waterfront and got this grand idea. If this were going to become a nightly ritual, then I was going to document our travelogue and take a few shots of each location. So we parked, exited the vehicle, and I took a photo of Colin in his car seat, on a picnic bench, with the Mayflower as backdrop. I figured within a weeks time, we’d have shots of all the famous landmarks (Fenway Park, The Hilltop Cactus, The Top of the Hub, The Dunkin’ Donuts Drive-Through) and the makings of a great scrapbook.

Anyway – on my return trip home – I noticed my wireless phone was off and decided to turn it on.

“You have 328 messages!!!”

Just as I began to sort through them, the phone rang. It was an exhausted Andi. She wanted to know where we were, she was worried sick. I explained to her that I decided to take Colin for a ride so that she could get some sleep. She hadn’t slept a wink – as she was wracked with worry. I think, in her heart, she knew we were just fine, but there was some small nagging notion deep within the protective maternal instinct that convinced her:

“Your husband has gone back to the hospital to see if this guy is still under warranty.”

These days, I look at my little man and I look back at the milestones we’ve hit – the momentous achievements he has scored – from first steps to first words (something about ‘pimpin’ the tricycle’) – and I marvel at the grand possibilities this little guy – this boundless life – has before him. And I pledge to love and support each step of the way.

Today is his day. The whole family is taking a weekend trip to New Hampshire for some richly deserved R & R. We suffered a mild crisis in the last few weeks when Colin’s favorite stuffed toy – Leap from the Leap Frog series – took ill and had to return to the Letter Factory to have the doctors work their mojo. In this age of corporate chicanery and grubbing for every dollar a company sets its sites on – we were very impressed when The Leap Frog Company told us to send Leap back to the ‘factory’ and they would return him good as ‘new.’ Anyway – it was a difficult concept to impart on Colin, that Leap had to go away for awhile. Still – he braved his way through it by reminding himself (and us… hourly) that Leap would be back in time for his birthday. We agreed. Of course he will!!! (Right?!?!?) 

This past Tuesday, Andi logged into the FedEx tracking site in her formerly fruitless quest to ascertain Leap’s location. As luck would have it, he was out there, in need of a ride. I called my good buddy Larry Lucchino, who made a few calls, and before you know it, he was on a private jet headed back to Beantown.

…and that is how Doug Mirabelli came to live in my basement.

Sorry, story for another day. Actually, as luck would have it, Leap was listed as currently in Chelmsford awaiting the delivery truck. Finally, Wednesday afternoon, the doorbell rang. Colin went with Andi to the door and greeted the UPS guy. (I refuse to call them Brown. What company gives themselves a nickname that no one has ever called them by?) Anyway, Brownie had a large package for Colin. After he left, Colin marched it over to his playroom and he and Andi tore into the package. There was Leap. Back in time for Colin’s birthday.

Back in time for our trip to New Hampshire.

Back in time to bring happiness and joy to the sweetest, most gentle little boy I could ever dream of calling my son.

So wherever you are today – on this sunny Cinco De Mayo – raise your glass (lemonade, Corona, what have you) and make note that three years ago today, one special little boy arrived and stole our heart.

Remember. It all goes back to Styx.