That is, it was Mini Me's fourth birthday.
After a pregnancy riddled with complications (I blame my job at the time for the high stress), seven ultrasounds (all medically necessary), a stint on bedrest (got some Christmas presents made), and a severe daily craving for strawberries, Mini Me was born. She was three weeks before her due date and a week before her scheduled C-Section.
Once the doctors got to her, it was literally five minutes before they pulled her out. On my side of the curtain, I heard that she had buried herself under my ribs and was actually fighting with them when they were trying to pull her out.
Like my other kids and their births, I should have known MM's birth would be indicative of how she was going to turn out.
The red hair wasn't a surprise. When Hoover was born, his hair was also red, though not as bright, and his eventually morphed to strawberry-blond, then to just blond. MM's hair looked like it was red to stay. Back when Disgruntled Husband and I were dating, he said that he thought we would boys without red hair, and girls with it. Score one for DH.
(Also of note: when it was getting close to my due date, DH's secretaries told me "Any day but the 10th" because DH had some very important meeting or deposition or something. I'm not sure whether to blame the willful disobedience on me or MM.)
|Quit stretching out your dress! I said quit it! Hey! Well, I guess if you stretch it, you can wear it next year, too.|