I want to give a belated Happy Birthday shout-out to my husband's baby brother, the youngest of the eight siblings in his family, who celebrated a forty-something birthday on January 7.
When I first started dating my husband back in 1973, this brother-in-law of mine was only three-and-a-half years old. He was a blue-eyed, dark-haired little cherub with freckles on his nose; he was fiercely attached to a big plaid, satin-edged blanket that he called his "fankin'"; and he was without a doubt the most adorable little boy I'd ever seen. That little guy I first met all those years ago--who has been like a true brother to me all the years since--was probably half the reason I decided very early on that if I had to have only one or the other, I wanted to have all boys. (And Somebody up there was definitely listening, because He blessed me with five of them!)
Here is a picture of my brother-in-law and me taken in late 1982, when I was a young married woman who wasn't even a mother yet (and when I still had a few inches on him). Take a gander at my blouse, if you haven't noticed it already. Yikes! How could I have thought that those ridiculous leg-o'-mutton sleeves looked good on me--or on anyone, for that matter? The eighties were a bit of a black hole, clothing- and hairstyle-wise (think huge shoulder pads and big, moussed-up hair), and I was just one of the many casualties of that decade of bad fashion. I believe most of us Boomers probably cringe a bit when we look at photos from that time period. But I love this picture anyway, because my sweet brother-in-law is in it with me. Look at my adorable little buddy, with his Bieber-esque haircut (he must have been the heartthrob of his junior high class): isn't he just the cutest thing?
And now, incredibly, the boy in this picture is a successful partner in a big firm, happily married and the father of three...and I'm a grandma. Time out! Stop the clock!
Sorry I forgot you the other day, M. A belated Happy Birthday to you, "Mayfer Magillacuddy"!