On this day, thirty-three years ago, my mother, nearly two weeks overdue with what she thought was her third baby, finally went into labor. She got to the hospital around 7, and forty-six minutes later, the girl that she'd hoped and prayed for was born.
That was my sister.
And then I popped out [maybe she wouldn't describe it as popped. Or maybe she would. She has the convenient tendency to only remember the good stuff. Which has worked out really well for her memory of my teenage years].
But I digress.
SURPRISE! I must have been thinking in my tiny baby head. BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!
Then she set about getting a second of every baby item she had [can you imagine?] before bringing us home from the hospital.
Later, I thanked her for all of this by acting like a total brat between the ages of 3-10. And then again between the ages of 15-18. I definitely had some bratty years in my twenties.
Even now when she doesn't answer the phone by my second time trying I have been known to get huffy. And how old am I?
Oh yes. Thirty-three.
And Happy Twin Day to my mother. Thanks for rising to the challenge, and for always making me feel like you preferred it that way, even in my bratty years.
Happy Birthday! Wow, I can't imagine going to the hospital feeling you have one and coming out with two. What a nice story! Have an amazing birthday celebration :)
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