Welcome to 26! Flynn Style…
“But it’s not even a special birthday!”
Brandi said that when she and Cody arrived at our house after dark this past Friday evening, and seemingly overwhelmed, she took in all that awaited her: Our little celebration of her.
I know she meant that turning 26 is not a milestone of any sort, but I responded, “Oh, yes, it is! Every birthday is a special birthday!” And I meant it. I realize how much more I mean it with each passing year.
In fact, though, Friday was not actually her birthday at all…
A while back, she had texted me one evening and asked, “How would you feel about us leaving town to go to a Brooks and Dunn concert on my birthday?” I guess the fact that she’d even ask that question means she knows how much I love her birthday. And I do. I probably spend a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to treating it like the holiday it really is to me: Her arrival changed my life forever – in the most beautiful of ways. I want her to always remember that and know that it matters to me to make her birthdays special – no matter how old she’s turning.
In response to her question, though, I assured her that – if it’s something that would make her happy – she should go for it! I meant that, too.
At the thought of exactly what she had proposed doing, my mind instantly flashed back to little 3-year-old Brandi: Strapped into her car seat in the back of my Subaru Legacy, curly platinum blonde pigtails, big expressive dark eyes, singing at the top of her lungs, “Him Got Youuuuu…..” (Of course, the lyrics of that B&D song actually say, “He’s Got You…” But I would have forbidden anyone to correct her and change anything about the cuteness of her rendition!) I know how much she has always loved that music, and I think it’s pretty cool to see things come full circle. That all these years later – the all-grown-up version of her would get the opportunity to see those guys live: Let alone as a birthday celebration.
I’ve had to do a lot of letting go and letting things change lately. With both of my kids. Easy? Not even a little bit.
I have moments where I feel so proud of myself for remembering to feel so grateful for the chance to watch them become the people God created them to be; to feel nothing but proud as I watch them soar.
Then I have other moments where I end up ugly crying for reasons I can’t exactly explain – other than to say that just too much is changing on me – all at once.
What I know for sure is that the awareness of how much and how quickly everything seems to be changing makes me appreciate it all so much more.
Never before in 26-years have I not spent Brandi’s actual birthday with her, but if this would be the year when that time finally came – I would sure make the best of it.
She works so hard these days. You might not know that she has three different jobs. A traditional setup? No. But she has managed – just by being the person she is – to end up earning integral roles in each place. I could not be prouder of her. When she recently told me she had worked 55-hours the previous week, I offered the motherly advice to make sure she sets some boundaries and doesn’t burn herself out. Her response? “I actually enjoy the hustle!” I know she does, and I am so grateful that she has the opportunity right now to build her life her way.
Just as her life has become that packed, so has her brother’s. Ian also grows a little more each day into a full-grown productive member of society – becoming just as integral in his places as she is in hers. That also makes me grateful and so proud of him.
With all that said, though, these lives they’re creating also make them something of a nightmare when it comes to trying to get everyone together!
We decided that for an early celebration of this 26th birthday, which would fall on a Sunday, the closest we could come before she left town would be Friday. So that’s what we planned. Ian also had a full workday an hour and a half away, but he encouraged me to plan it and that he could get home “eventually”. Allowing time for everyone’s workdays to come to an end, we settled on 7:00.
The birthday girl loves all things fall, and so do I. I always have, but for the past 26-years, her birthday coming at the start of it has made me love it even more.
I spent so much of the week leading up to it on all the details: The gifts I wanted her to have, the fall vibe I wanted us all to feel and enjoy, the foods I know she loves, the cake…
As Friday at 7:00 approached, we had wood fired pizzas on the Traeger, the “chip bar” assembled (That’s what she arrived and delightedly named it. It was actually just regular rippled potato chips, veggie chips, and French onion dip – but I guess that’s a rarity for my usual dinner parties…), the buffalo chicken strips in the oven, the Shiraz uncorked, and the “Birthday Girl” wineglass I painted for her a few years ago waiting.
My mom arrived first and asked what she could help with. “Nothing,” I said, as I worked on assembling a salad based on butter lettuce – Brandi’s favorite kind. I had it all under control, so my mom sat down in the kitchen and chatted with me as we waited for everyone to arrive. Ian’s sweet girlfriend, Joie, already had – home from college for the weekend and eager to celebrate with us. She feels more and more like “one of us” all the time, and I think it warms more hearts than just mine to see what good friends she and Brandi are becoming.
As we three ladies chatted in the kitchen – the hurricane of the rest of them began to blow in…
As I always do, I had Alexa playing my music as I cooked. Joie had just begun to groove a little to Louis Prima singing about Angelina when suddenly the music stopped. I can’t stand dead quiet, especially as the house begins to fill up with the noise of a lot of people. So, as technologically challenged as I am, I set about trying to remedy the loss of wi-fi or whatever other thing had rendered Alexa mute just when I needed her most.
At that very moment, hurricane Tommy blew through the back door, bringing with him a clatter. He had blown through the door to announce that I needed to get out there because he feared the pizza might be burning. (At this point, the birthday girl and her husband were around 5-minutes late.) The clatter he brought with him was a piece of artwork tumbling off a table near the door. When I saw what had hit the floor, I “expressed my disapproval”, to put it mildly. “The door slipped out of my hand,” he explained, as he scrambled to put things – thankfully unbroken – back where they belonged.
As this transpired, hurricane Ian had blown through the other back door, announcing that – in addition to the birthday girl – someone else was due to arrive at 7:00: A buyer for the last dirt bike left in our garage. (Speaking of everything changing and my feelings about it being all over the map…!) Truthfully, on that front, I am over it. So much has happened in the past year that makes me so thankful he walked away from that when he did – in one piece and with an amazing experience and accomplishments under his belt – and did I mention in one piece?? Even still though, I get sentimental and sad when things really end, so it’s probably best that the very last bike would leave here with me almost too occupied to really even notice.
…As luck would have it, as Ian made this announcement, he somehow also managed to lean on the birthday cake: The one that had taken me half a day to make. The one displayed on a pedestal all by itself on the kitchen counter. We discovered this thanks to the clue of pink icing on his tricep. …At least it was only the very front of the cake…
As I shot out the door to investigate the possibility of burning pizza (it wasn’t), I saw that the Birthday Girl and Cody had finally arrived. Somehow, Ian and Joie had also gotten back outside, and they were all departing the garage. One of them (I’m not even sure who…) announced,
“We just had a situation…”
To this point, I haven’t mentioned little Drake. Increasingly well-behaved at 11-months old, he continues to earn more and more freedom and trust from us. With the beehive of activity going on; all of us buzzing about, he was just hanging out in the garage. We often comment how he doesn’t seem to bother with much that’s not his to bother with. Ian would later say, “Well, this is proof that we just really watch him, because clearly he actually would!” Turns out he chose this particular point in time to get into Ian’s shooting bag. In a few unattended moments, he not only chewed in half a noise cancelling surround sound headset – but he did something else, too…
A couple of weeks earlier, when we had taken him away from home for the weekend as we hosted a large event at our business, Ian forgot to pack his blanket. I don’t know if that was the reason, or if he really just doesn’t like sleeping away from home – but he had a rough first night, keeping an already exhausted Ian awake until 4:00 AM – ahead of his 8:00 AM start to the following day. I received what felt like an S.O.S. text from Ian that morning, begging me to help him figure out something for the next night… So, before I reported for my role that weekend, I made a trip to Tractor Supply and bought a bark collar and a bottle of calming hemp gummies. We all joked all weekend that Mommy was just trying to be Drake’s favorite when she went and bought him “weed”. We made every Doritos joke we could think of and crossed our fingers hoping for the best for the next night. Either he was just extra tired by then, had adapted to his surroundings a little better, or the “puppy weed” worked – because he did have a better night.
That little bottle of potential magic apparently came home in Ian’s shooting bag and remained mostly forgotten. Until this past Friday night. I guess Drake really wanted to get the party started, because in his few unattended moments, he ingested half the bottle!
We’d barely had time to say, “Well, I guess we need to keep an eye on him now!” when the dirt bike buyer arrived. We had all ended up around our back patio steps, and we hadn’t taken a birthday photo with Brandi yet, even though, chaos notwithstanding, I had just mentioned that we needed to. So, seizing the opportunity of having someone to take it, Ian ordered everyone to sit down right where we were, handed his phone to the buyer, and asked him to snap a picture of us. To the poor, unsuspecting, but really good sport of a young man, I said, “I bet you never come back here… But when you leave, can I go with you??” He laughed and good naturedly snapped our picture. Even taking a second one to make sure he got it right. A few minutes later, he hightailed it out of here with a dirt bike in the bed of his truck - and he left me behind!
My mom had somehow wandered off in the midst of all this, commenting something about, “This is one happening place!” When I finally found her again, I expressed something like, “These people and this place make me crazy…”
With a big smile, she said, “It’s nice.” And she’s right.
We are a mess, and we have so many moving parts! No matter how hard I try, nothing ever seems to happen smoothly. Maybe one day I’ll learn to just expect that. But in the meantime – the beautiful chaos of a growing family all coming back “home” – and all that comes with that territory – really and truly is so nice.
As the Birthday Girl finally arrived at the patio dinner table with her pizza, chicken strips, chips, and Shiraz, the rest of the kids still inside loading plates, she announced, “Everyone is so happy that I love junk food – this is the best!”
That was only the beginning of the laughter that would fill our table over the next hour or so.
At one point, Joie laughed out loud and proclaimed, “This is why I drive home 3-hours on weekends! You just don’t get this stuff at a frat party!”
The Birthday Girl read every word of every card, reveled gratefully in every gift, and declared her cake (tricep shaped indentation notwithstanding), possibly my “best one ever”. Drake even barreled in to join us – his energy and enthusiasm for the party proving his “indulgence” had somehow left him no worse for the wear…
Each year when I plan Brandi’s birthday, I do so with the intention to make sure she comes away knowing how loved she is. That she is worth every detail and every little bit of extra effort.
By the time she left that evening, I feel pretty certain she felt the truth of that for another year. At least I hope so.
I think it turned out to be a “special” birthday in more ways than any of us could have imagined.
Happy Birthday, my sweet girl. I hope we all always remember our celebration of you this year.
