40

Forty. Tomorrow I turn forty. I don’t feel forty. Nice people say I don’t LOOK forty. So what’s the big deal? Is it that it’s a nice big, round number? Or is it because you’re not quite fifty, but no longer in your thirties? At any rate, it’s supposed to be a big deal.

So what’s my point? My point is that tomorrow I break the mid-life barrier and as daunting as society makes it seem, it is still a reason to celebrate. And like any other birthday, there are gifts! In fact, I’ve been lucky enough to receive several gifts early.

I got one of my gifts on Friday night when my lovely wife whisked me away on a weekend trip to Las Vegas! We caught some shows, lost some money and had a fantastic time(Heather took me to see Jimmy Buffet on Saturday night and we caught the Cirque De Soleil’s Beatles show, “Love”). And, as an extra-special gift, Heather’s mom was nice enough to come down for the weekend and watch Finley while we snuck off on our little trip.

It was our first extended time away from the munchkin, so we did something we hadn’t done since before she was born… We slept in. That’s right. There we were in Sin City. The land of a thousand lights. Slot machines and card tables. Liquor and ladies. Randy and Heather fast asleep in their hotel room. It was glorious.

And even though we had a great time… even when we were awake… we both caught ourselves missing the one thing that I consider the greatest gift I have ever received. We missed our little girl.

I know that we’ll have to eventually let her get bigger and move out and all of that other growing up stuff. But for right now, she’s the central part of our lives and being without her is almost like being without air. It’s hard to imagine a morning without her waking up in her crib and keeping herself entertained so that when we come in to get her, she’s all smiles. Then there’s the way she sits up as I carry her around, with one hand on my shoulder and her little head whipping around to check out any and all noises that happen to catch her attention. My favorite part is when I pick her up at daycare and she’s busy playing with whatever toy is in her world. Then I call to her and she looks up and sees that it’s that guy again… That guy who kisses her cheeks and tickles her… and she smiles her toothless smile that makes me forget I’m about to turn forty.

That baby girl… the sunshine of my life… the little finger I am gladly wrapped around… That is the best present I could have ever asked for. But wait. It gets better.

Just when I thought I could never be more smitten with that kid, she goes and says her first words, “Da Da.” Now, you could argue that just making the sound doesn’t mean she knows who or what “Da Da” is. But, I’ve decided not to listen to that argument. She said “Da Da.” I’m Da Da. Case closed.

What a week it has been. My daughter says her first words, my wife takes me on a surprise trip to see Jimmy Buffet and The Beatles “LOVE” in Las Vegas. And, I’m about to turn forty in just a few hours. It’s funny how in forty years, it’s this last one that makes me realize how lucky and loved I am. I sure hope it doesn’t take me another forty to realize that again. As long as I keep hearing “Da Da” and have Heather by my side, I don’t think I’ll need to worry.