The Square Root of Mark's Birthday

Sunday was Mark’s birthday. He is now a square. 6² if you want to be precise. Gabba and I have been sewing our little fingers off to get his gift done on time. Mark is a little hard to party up because he truly does not care. Father’s Day, Christmas, his birthday. It doesn’t matter. Anything we do for him is nice, and he accepts it graciously. But he is just as happy if we do nothing aside from a hug and a verbal display of affection and appreciation.

Weeks ago, I started asking him what he wanted for his birthday. He truly couldn’t think of a thing. Part of me is pleased with that, because it means we take good care of him, and he wants for nothing. Part of me is super-frustrated, because I want to do something for him, and I know the kids will reallyREALLY want to do something for him. Finally, after a great deal of (gentle) prodding, he decided he wanted to invite friends over, play games, and eat chocolate cake.

OK.

Then, back in June, we had the opportunity to spend the evening with some friends from Way Back Before We Were Married. It was neat to catch up, and meet each other’s children, and so on. Then Tamy (on of said friends) brought out The Scrapbooks. Oh! The good times! The inside jokes! The memories! I can only imagine what was going through the minds of our impressionable children. I know Gabba was paying attention, though, because when we came to a picture much like this one.

This is Mark in his favorite dancing pants, shortly after returning from his mission. Aren't they uhm...striking? They were made out of a polyester crazy quilt, and were wide and hideous. No one knows for sure where they came from, and lamantabley, no one knows where they went. Mark loved them. He wore them to pretty much every one of the Young Single Adult dances, and any of the Youth dances he helped DJ. And he danced. A lot. Like a Whirling Dervish.

Everyone remembered The Pants. In fact, before I actually knew Mark, I knew him because of The Pants. [Full Disclosure: I didn't have a very favorable opinion of Mark Galbraith when I first saw him; he wore those hideous pants - before wide leg pants were popular again - and long ol' sideburns and danced like a fiend; and, well, I thought he was an egotistical showoff...] Where was I? Oh, yes. Everyone rememberd The Pants that evening. The women all groaned, and the men expressed cherished memories and admiration. And Mark said, "I wish I still had those pants!"

And Gabriella was listening. Some few days later, she approached me with an idea. "Mom," she said, "how about if we make Daddy a new pair of crazy pants for his birthday?" How could I fail to see the brilliance of such an idea? So a project was born.

The first problem was finding ugly polyester. Do you remember 10 to 15 years ago, when that stuff was everywhere, and you couldn't get rid of it? Well, now you can't find it. We went to every thrift store in the area. I asked sewing and crafty friends if they had any languishing in attic corners. A few pieces trickled in. Gabba and I finally ended up purchasing several brightly colored outfits at the 2nd-Hand store, hacking them up, cutting them into squares, and then sewing the whole mess into our own fabric.

It took days...mostly because we had to have it cleaned up and out of sight when Mark got home. But we finally did it. And the pants (I used a pattern for hospital scrubs, but added a big ol' widen-the-leg triangle at the bottom) were ready in plenty of time. We were hoping that Mark would wear them to DJ the dances for Youth Conference the Thursday and Friday before his birthday, but it didn't work out. And that's OK.

He did, however, change into them right after Church, and wear them the rest of the day. He proclaimed them supremely comfy, and modeled them with pride for all of our friends who came over for the games-and-cake extravaganza that evening.

My favorite part was the exchange between all of the Young Men and their Young Men's President...and their reactions:

"Oh my gosh, Brother Galbraith! Look at your pants!"

"Sweet pants, Brother Galbraith."

"Holy cow! Where did you get those pants?!"

However, when he offered to loan them out - you know, for dances or dates and such - none of them seemed eager to take him up on it. Go figure.