Happy Birthday, Dad

Today is Dad's birthday.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Here's Dad on his -- as you can tell by Mom's handwriting on the snapshot -- 28th birthday. 28 years old! The thought of my Dad on his 28th birthday is almost too much to bear, except it's not. It's perfect.

On May 18, 1961, at 28, Dad was already a Dad. Young Mary Beth was 3 days shy of being one month old. Which is why she's not there blowing the candles out with Dad. Being a newborn and all. But I love that even without the tiny newborn joining in, Mom made her man a birthday cake, with candles and writing, and put a hat on his head just the same. Happy Birthday Joe!

I've been going through a lot of old photo albums lately, and, in honor of Dad's brirthday today, well, I think it's appropriate to take ourselves on a little journey back in time.

Shall we?

Here are Mom and Dad at their wedding, June 20, 1959, after they changed out of their Wedding Duds into their going-away Glad Rags. I love that my Mom is wiping away an emotional tear. With white gloves. And I love that her girlfriends Tweety and Rita are on her left, and her siblings, our Aunt Peggy and Uncle Paul are on her right.

Honeymoon in the Poconos. Every shot of my parents when they were young makes me swoon.

Pregnant! And . . .

. . . our very own Mary Beth, born on April 20, 1960 -- she was 3 weeks late and had long fingernails when she was born, the story goes, but what I most love about this photo is Dad was a kid -- he's still 27 for another month -- and he is such a natural with the bambina.

Just look at him! And look at that pram. My own sisters' kids-of-their-own got to roll around in that very pram, 30 years later . . . 

. . . okay, maybe Mary Beth made it easy for Dad to take to fatherhood so deeply . . .

. . . I mean, she really was awfully cute (and, uh, nice socks, Dad), but I do believe he was born to it.

And . . . pregnant again! . . .

. . . and then there were two daughters. And a really, really incredibly beautiful Mom.

Wow. Off the track here, but look at Mom.

This is one of my favorite photos of Dad, our young doc, ever. He was chief resident, he was either off-duty or on a break, and he had a baby daughter or two to bond with.

They really were quite the happy little family.

But it seems to me something is missing. Something really crucial. Like maybe Daughter #3?

But in the meantime, it's these photos, these early photos with the wee ones, that kill me.

Dad flew every daughter he ever had like an airplane, and I'm pretty sure he flew every grandchild the same way too.

I'm including this photo for one reason and one reason only,
which I think is entirely clear.
Does the term dickie-do mean anything to you??

Aw, Mom. Aw, Dad.

Christmas at Aunt Peggy's and Uncle Frank's. Love Mom and Dad's interlocked feet.

But, okay, who's ready for another baby to show up? I am! I am!

Labor Day, September 4, 1963. Mom is 8 months and 29-1/2 days pregnant. Because she will, indeed, give birth this very night. To her third daughter. Me, me! But can we take a moment to look at the outfits? Because Mom made them. Her outfit and Mary Beth's outfit and Ann's outfit. She made them. Whilst fully pregnant. And those outfits are just purely awesome. Look at that maternity capri & top-with-piping numbah -- that would be cute if it wasn't a maternity outfit. But it is. And Mom made it.

And then later that night . . . 

Yay! Me! And if you don't think *I'm* excited by the miracle of my own birth, have another look at Dad:

And a closer look at Ann:

And a closer look at Mary Beth, especially her feet:

Those feet are saying, Oh dear, another sister; I fear there will be even more of these . . .

But look how happy they were to have me. Look at how fun we are!

Okay, maybe every single day was not entirely fun . . .

The old photos albums I've been going through are, clearly, the 1959 through 1963 ones. So, apologies to Julie and Jane and Jacqueline -- we'll get to you lovelies soon; I promise we will.

But in the meantime, On May 18, 1963, while Mom was five months pregnant with me, Dad turned 30. 30!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Aw, Dad. We miss you terribly, and we love you tremendously.