Half birthdays

Today is Lily's "half-birthday." Cyndi has always been real good at taking an ordinary day and making it special for the kids. At some point, she decided that half-birthdays warranted a celebration, of sorts. Over the years, it has always involved Cyndi, Frederic, and Lily. Whoever had the half-birthday, spent the day being treated much like he/she is on the real birthday. Minus presents. And it always revolves around the day's most exciting event: ice cream.

Lily woke up this morning, her hair messed from a busy night sleeping, eyes barely open, when she declared, "it's my half-birthday." She was literally stretching her mouth as far open as it would go, smiling. A couple of weeks ago, she lost her third tooth; first front. The gaping hole has been a source of entertainment for her, but when she smiles, it becomes a source of entertainment for everyone.

I was in the middle of my workout when she came down to make her proclamation. I paused my, iPod, kept plugging along on the elliptical machine, and breathlessly said, "Happy Half-Birthday, Sweetie!" I've never been a pet name kind of person. I don't even have one for Cyndi. Lily has always been Sweetie to me. Maybe it's because my grandmother calls me that.

I am never usually around for the kids' special day. Frederic's latest half-birthday came last year at the end of October. I was on the road. I couldn't remember the trip--they all become a blur at some point--but a quick check of my calendar reminds me that I was in Milwaukee with my co-worker, Jay.

The night of Frederic's half-birthday, Jay and I decided that it was a good idea to take a cab to the Pottawatomie Casino. I think the idea was mine. We were at our hotel, working in the bar area and indulging in their free Happy Hour, when I had to make room for more beer. On the way out of the bathroom and back to our table, I saw a pamphlet for the casino. It seemed like the best idea of the day. I grabbed it and placed it in front of Jay when I returned to our table. Jay immediately went into YES-mode. He, too, wanted to try his luck at Blackjack.

We hadn't had dinner yet, opting to concentrate on the Happy Hour thing first. We hopped in a cab and when we got to the casino, I figured we'd find a way over to a buffet or something a couple of hours after we got there. It was one of those nights. Milwaukee certainly isn't Vegas, but we both assumed that alcohol was comped. Not so. That didn't stop us from taking turns buying rounds for one another. Nothing big, just beer.

I lost almost $200 in the first hour. Jay was doing much better. I found my saving grace at the 3-card Poker table, where I not only made my money back, but would eventually end the night with an extra $200 in my wallet.

A Milwaukee casino is a strange place to spend an evening. There was much more camaraderie than I've seen in Nevada. Many people knew each other. They'd yell at one another from across the tables, sharing their joy or sorrow. A nice retiree who sat to my left seemed to hear my stomach rumble at some point. I watched, as she reached into her purse and offered me a plastic container of mixed nuts.

"Don't let them see you, sweetheart," she said to me. "They don't like the grease on the cards." She and I covertly snacked for a few moments, unnoticed by anyone.

There as a young girl from the Philippines who sat a couple of seats over to my right. She plopped down shortly after I arrived and was obviously a regular. She spoke to the dealer in their native tongue, laughing at something only the two of them were privy to enjoy. She kept getting calls on her cell phone from her "old" fiance. She ignored the calls saying, "he thinks I am still at work. He don't know I come here three, four times a week. What he don't know, don't hurt him, you know?" She was what ills me the most about the "next" generation. Casually thinking that being engaged to someone is akin to dating. If the marriage doesn't work out, they can simply get a divorce. She was off to a great start.

The girl was carrying a plastic grocery store bag which had a Styrofoam container in it--the kind you get when you take home leftovers. The bag smelled delicious. It was either because I was starving, buzzed, or a combination of the two. I asked her what was in the bag.

"Stir fry," she told me. "I get it for being such a good little girl." She noticed my obvious confusion. "They give it to me, the casino, for playing a lot." She held up a red card. "You have one of these?" I shook my head. The girl and the retiree looked at each other with shame, for me. "You need one of these cards. You can get free stuff with it. How long you been playing here?" I looked at my wrist. No watch. Casinos have a rule about cell phones being at the table, so I decided against pulling it out to see what time it was.

"A few hours, I guess." The Filipino girl said something to the dealer, again in their language. Shortly thereafter, I was being asked for my driver's license, and was presented with my own red card.

I was ecstatic. Probably just as giddy as Frederic was because it was his half-birthday and he was treated to ice cream earlier in the day.

Special treatment, for a unorthodox birthday celebration, or even at a casino in the middle of Milwaukee is the point. It's Cyndi's point. The kids will have enough hard days in their lives. They'll eventually have school and work and relationships and life to bog them down. They will, at some point, want to stop celebrating half-birthdays. They'll eventually drop the 1/2 when people ask them their ages.

Today, Lily got to feel special. Not half-special, just special. Thanks to a generous, loving, mother, and thanks, to a little bit of ice cream.