Happy Birthday to me!!!

I received a phone call today from my dad singing "Happy Birthday" to me. For those of you who are familiar with my birthday, you are right, it isn't currently April. No, he was singing Happy "you are a Taylor" Birthday. Every year on January 6th, one or the other of us calls the other and sings and celebrates the year that he adopted me as his very own kidling. When I was younger we would celebrate the event with a cake, not the traditional birthday cake but a cornbread cake. Which is interesting when it has frosting on it, I wouldn't necessarily say it was a bad thing, but given the chance now, I would elect to write the message in honey rather than frosting. Sorry mom, but I have developed more refined tastes. :)

We had lots of family traditions as I was growing up; watching the Sunday night Disney specials (most especially Zorro), having popcorn on Friday nights while watching TGIF, going for walks, camping, etc. But one of the most consistent traditions was anytime my sister and I would leave to go somewhere and my dad was around, as we were walking out the door he would say, "remember, you're a Taylor!" We would always laugh, and say "yeah yeah, whatever dad" This continued for as long as I lived there, so much so that a good friend of mine still says it to me on occasion when we hang up from our phone conversations, it made that much of an impression on her. I don't know if my dad had a deeper reason for giving us that reminder each time we left - reminding us that we were representing the family name, not to forget that we belonged to something bigger than ourselves, that we were a part of a family, a general reminder in case we should find ourselves in an identity crises while shopping at Target, or just a silly thing to say when we left each time. No matter the reason, it became a very comforting thing, and was just expected each time our hands hit the doorknob and my dad was in the general vicinity.

Despite the fact that I am no longer a Taylor (by name anyway), it still pops up every now and then. Mostly when a very special friend of mine yells at me, I get it in exclamation form "TAYLOR!" I can hear it right now in my head, crystal clear. So anytime I am "in trouble" with her, I get my old surname thrown at me, but otherwise I carry around now the much more complicated handle - Rybczynski. I believe it is fairly easy to imagine the response I get when people ask me what my maiden name was after I have to spell my current name for them.

But for me, remembering I am a Taylor is much more than my last name. It means that I had someone take me as his own when he didn't have to. I could have been Shannon Chapman daughter of Dawn, and stepdaughter of Greg Taylor. But I wasn't, I was Shannon Taylor, daughter of Dawn and Greg. I was wanted, I was special, and being a Taylor was my proof. I could have had an entirely different life if I hadn't become a Taylor, but God had another plan, and while there were definitely moments of Greg vs Shannon (the years 13-17 were kind of one big fight - it may come as a big shock to many, but I was kinda mouthy) overall I had a wonderful childhood with parents that loved me and taught me much about life, God, and how to handle the ups and downs that come with life.

So while I can't say I have a normal family (who can? I willfully challenge anyone who thinks they do), I have a wonderful family. And even though my mom and I would probably have made it okay, despite her putting Dr. Pepper in my bottles and thinking that was normal, our little two person family was made complete that January 6th so very long ago *sigh* and then I guess made even more complete May 21, 1983 with the addition of Amy, but that's an entirely other story. :)

Because I know mom went and got you and is making you read this: thanks dad for choosing to become my dad in every sense of the word, you are more my dad then could ever have been determined by DNA. I appreciate you more than I can ever communicate in a conversation or a card, you are a very important and significant influence and part of my life. I can't wait until my kids get to have their own fun (at times trying) but overall wonderful experiences with you. They have alot to learn: social blunder, hiccumupdippy stomach flippy, swail foops, squat rocks, we ain't playin' no school girls here, and all those other sayings that will live on forever. I hope to carry on the tradition of remembering who they are, they will of course have to remember that they are a Rybczynski, which is more of a mouthful, but I hope to carry on the spirit of remembering that they are also a Taylor.