All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.
"Why are all of these men here?" Helen asked her daughter, looking surprised at the literal size of the crowd. "This is a little girl's birthday party, not something that would interest them … like a football game may."
I can feel this conversation ending bad before it even fully got started.
"Olive's been to almost every one of their football games, so why shouldn't they all be at her party? More importantly, my baby wanted her family around her today," Stephanie very patiently explained.
"Which is why your father and I chose to come despite you trying to antagonize me so we would stay away. Little Olivia shouldn't suffer because her mother's mouth can turn fresh when she wants to provoke me."
My mouth was opening to say something I know I'll enjoy, as Tank and Raphael also took offense to Helen's tone and words, and began closing in. Steph's hand stopped all three of us.
"You mean you told Dad what to do and he did it because he learned early-on that doing everything you say is easier than arguing with you. Don't bother denying it, Mom, because I'm not real interested in listening to it. And by the way, my 'fresh mouth' has become my favorite body part because it can now tell you to stop being you ... or leave. Olive would only be suffering if her Uncles weren't here to play with her, let alone on HER day. They're not 'these men', they're amazing guys who have given Olive and I a family to be proud of."
"Meaning your father and I haven't?"
My wife let her silent stare speak for her.
"Honestly, Stephanie ... you are a mother now. You need to start thinking like one. Having these people around Olivia all the time could ..."
Steph ignored her mother momentarily to smile and wave over at Olivia. Our daughter is currently sitting perched on Cal's shoulders, the toes of her sprinkle-sneakers peeking out from the ends of his hands which are wrapped gently around her ankles to keep her from potentially slipping.
Some go fishing with a six-pack and a pole. My daughter forged her own path using her two hands and a handy RangeUncle tall enough to snag what's been hung high off the floor. From the time the party started until this moment, half of the hanging decorations have become beached on a table or placed in a carefully chosen corner of a room where Gunny and Mo tried to do the stealing, as Olivia went on a seek-and-play-with mission with any creature that caught her eye. Stephanie had wanted an interactive party and she got it. To our baby, the decorations were better than any toy we could have bought from a store for her to play with.
"If you want to make it out of this building with all your appendages still attached, Mom, you won't finish either of those implications," Steph warned. "Ranger and I will protect both of our girls for their entire lives, which is more than I can say about you for just the first five years of mine."
Finally Frank spoke up. "What are you talking about? Nothing happened to you ..." He stopped when he noticed Helen's pinched face, Steph's silence, and my 'A father should know more' stare. "Or did it?"
"Now's not the time to get into the past," Steph told him. "Today's about making sure Olive's loving her life, not rehashing why I didn't like mine until I created this one with Ranger. The point I was in the middle of making is that our guys already have to deal with a ton of crap from people they shouldn't have to hear, but they will NEVER tolerate someone insinuating that they could ever hurt Olive ... and neither will I. They've been here for her in a way you'll never let yourself be."
"God, Mom, I begged you to behave," Valerie said, likely sensing the showdown from down the hall and wanting to quickly head it off. "I told you what Ranger didn't have to do for me when I was worried to death about Angie and Mary Alice. Steph told me that he trained every one of Olive's Uncles, so to imply that anyone here, aside from you, could hurt my niece is crazy. I know you refuse to admit it, but they protect people for a living, not harm them for fun like you and your gang of gossips do over coffee cake in the Burg. They're here today for Olivia, can you say the same? We all know you showed up just to get the scoop on the party so rumors don't start about you being left out of it."
"I've never said this before ... but I love you, Val," Steph told her. "And I actually don't mean that sarcastically."
I broke the tension of the moment with one word. "Julie," I warned, seeing my daughter's hand raised and holding what is supposed to be an innocent way of propelling plastic ships across a floating finish line using just a carefully-aimed stream of cold water.
My beautiful, loving, and extremely astute, daughter wanted to quickly shut her grandmother-in-law down in honor of her sister and all of her RangeUncles. I love her protectiveness, but hate that a flare-up of it was needed. Mary Alice was in the process of lifting her own water-weapon when I'd caught their impending attack. When these two are together, they remind me of Stephanie and Edna, which can be entertaining or dangerous depending on the situation.
Julie gave me a smile and a shrug and then she and Marie Alice went without a word back to their game, with Lisa and Mary Lou's youngest running after them. Edna waded into the fray and teamed up with Valerie to handle Helen.
"Let's get you and that stick that's up your patooty someplace else," Edna told her daughter. "If you don't play nice, Stephanie's gonna be sharing with the Burg-Bigmouths that picture of your tipple-stash she asked me to snap on the sly."
"I'll also share it if you don't steer clear of Raphael and Aubrey and Kenzie and Cal," Steph warned her mother. "I'd add Kane and Harper to the list, but Kane will likely just shoot you if you upset Harp, so I don't have to worry as much about them."
In typical Helen fashion, she ignored what Stephanie said and focused only on the one or two words that interested her. "I don't know who you are talking about? Who are those people?"
My wife sighed. "Let me put it this way, any woman you see here that isn't related to us or from the Burg, just stay away from. They're either married to, engaged to, or involved with, one of Olive's Uncles ... and none of them will put up with whatever you 'politely' say to them. You're not messing up Olive's party by saying something offensive to someone we love ... so just stick close to Dad, though he seems to already be enjoying himself and won't be paying much attention to whatever you have a problem with."
"Frank?!" Helen called, when she noticed that her husband was in fact no longer standing nearby. "What are you eating?"
My father-in-law ambled back over to us, and he brought the better part of the Burg, Mary Lou, with him. "Someone mixed those Goldfish crackers with potato chips and is calling it Fish and Chips. That's something."
"The boys stopped trying to kill each other long enough to help me come up with snack ideas for the party that are kid and ocean-theme friendly ... and also quick to make," Mary Lou told Frank. "The peanut butter and jellyfish, fish-shaped sandwiches are mine, too. My boys mixed the 'Ocean Water' and 'Seaweed Juice' drinks themselves. The complicated stuff Ella, Edna, and Mrs. Manoso, took care of."
"You could have asked me to do something, Stephanie," Helen stated.
My wife scooped up Olivia who had taken her slight weight off Cal's shoulders and ran over to us, wanting to show her Mama the shark that is her most recent catch.
"No ... I couldn't," Steph said to her mother.
Unfortunately, those three words summed up their relationship.
"What a cute shark you found," Stephanie then said to our daughter, giving Olivia a genuine smile and her undivided attention. "What do you think we should name him or her, Olive? How about Jaws? Or Fin? Maybe something more obvious like Baby Shark? You seem to really like that song no matter how many times Uncle Lester tries to turn it off on you. He's reeeal lucky we let him come today considering the theme, isn't he?"
"Hey!" Santos shouted at her, hitting pause on his intention to tag Hal with a blue ball from the shark-infested ball pit he'd helped set up late last night.
"We love you, Uncle Lester!" Steph called back, urging Olive to blow a kiss to the offended, but mostly offensive, RangeUncle.
"Iza shawa," our daughter declared, giving the almost correctly-identified shark a kiss, before holding him up for her Mama to do the same. Steph indulged her without hesitation. She received a hug from our baby right after. "You're cuter than any baby or great big shark. You know that?"
"Bat," Olivia tried to repeat.
"Yep, you're our Bat-Baby, too. And Daddy and I love you sooooo much. You've made this whole year the best one."
"You both have, Babe," I told them.
My wife smiled over at me in appreciation for more than just that compliment.
"How long do Olive and I have to hear our parents 'Babe-ing' each other?" Julie asked, our dogs effectively herding her back to us.
"Only about seventy more years, Jules," my wife told her. "Your Dad's been making me eat healthy and exercise daily ... so I'm planning on us both living well into our hundreds."
"Good," our daughter replied. "As unbelievable as it sounds, Olive and I ... and anybody else you two may eventually make, are gonna want you around that long."
That confession is more of a gift than the stack waiting to be unwrapped in the glow-in-the-dark room full of various species of fish that's being lit by too many black lights.
"Does Dad's input mean that the birthday and smash cake are the healthy carrot cake/avocado frosting ones he threatened us with?"
"No," I assured her. "I let Ella and your Grandmother have free rein over the food, which is why there's so much of it."
"No problem, Big Bro," my little brother said, dropping an arm across Julie's and Steph's shoulders, "I skipped breakfast just so I could make a dent in the party food. Less leftovers to worry about when I'm around."
"I know you're as serious about food as I am," Steph told her brother-in-law, "so that just decided what's up next. Come on, Olive, I think it's time for my favorite part of any birthday ... cake time. Your Abuela made you a special little beach ball that you can smash, squish between your fingers, and eat, to your heart's content. If you want to aim a fistful my way ... I'm totally okay with this kind of mushy food."
"Did you catch all of that, Olivia?" I asked our daughter, knowing she felt Stephanie's happiness if nothing else.
"Olive is Steph's daughter, Dad," Julie said. "She likely honed in on cake and tuned out everything else."
"You being our daughter," Steph told her, "you know your sister and I well. If you're brave enough, you can sit by us and try a bite of whatever Olive aims outward."
"I'm a Manoso ... 'Brave' is my middle name."
Apparently for the day, Olivia's middle name 'Adora' was replaced with brave also, as my mother placed the ball-cake in front of her. Steph was also brave by just sitting our baby on her lap by the table-of-honor, which has a Dolphin carrying a '1' banner in its mouth. My wife decided to forgo the safety of a high chair barrier between herself, Olivia's hands, and the certified organic-dyed and heavily-colored red, blue, and yellow, icing.
All the guests stopped what they were doing just to see how our daughter would approach her first cake experience. For a moment, Olivia's little hands hovered over the sides of the beach ball as if she were playing at the beach or our living room and was about to pick it up and throw it. But our tiny dare devil had just been figuring out the best way to hold onto it while she leaned forward and did her best Whale Shark impression, letting her mouth fall open and fill with the cake that was propelled into it as she bent in two over Steph's arms and all but face-planted into the frosting.
"That's my girl," my wife proudly stated. That praise got her one fistful of beach ball. "Yum. Who says cake needs a fork?"
"I do," I told her, "every time Ella surprises you with dessert and you're too far from the kitchen and I have to remind you that civilized people require utensils to eat."
"What's that, Olive," she said conspiratorially, "Daddy wants cake delivered via finger-fork? I think you're right. He deserves a bite."
She waited until our daughter got two hands full before lifting her up and aiming her at me.
"Open up, Dad," Julie teased.
She should know better. At the last possible second, I pulled my eldest closer so Olivia's cake hand had a new target.
"Hah!" Steph said. "Welcome to the club. What does this make us, Jules, cake brothers instead of blood brothers?"
"Something like that," I told her.
"Dad's bloodstream probably feels like it just endured an act of torture," she noted, seeing that Olivia wasn't going to leave me out of the taste-test.
My one-year-old batted her big brown eyes at me and held out her hand expectantly. I didn't have the heart to resist those long lashes or her desire to share her special treat.
Despite Helen sticking around, the rest of the party remained light in drama and heavy on celebrating, not only Olivia's birthday ... but also the changes this year has brought for almost everyone here. Steph and I had a daughter and finally were married, and together we now have Julie visiting during almost every school vacation and were granted permission to see her whenever we're in Miami. Our family also expanded to include two four-legged members, Gunner and Ammo, who were also a 'surprise' addition. Kane and Harper are now just weeks away from welcoming their own little Angel. Raphael and Aubrey are beginning a new chapter of their lives, and Kenzie and Cal appear to be seriously contemplating their future.
This kind of success isn't the type I'd been planning on when I began Rangeman, but it's been more gratifying than the wealth I've accumulated because of the people here who - as Stephanie told Helen - are far more than just employees to us.
That point was proven after the cake and presents were thoroughly attacked by Olivia's ten fingers and toes, because she wanted out of her socks and shoes. Since a nap is pending, we didn't fight it. For a commemorative picture opportunity, Louis had worked for a solid week planning, building, and painting plywood and cardboard to appear that a surfboard is riding an incoming wave. As Julie stood on the board with her now one-year-old sister standing in front of her, she reached out with one arm and pulled as many of us into their picture before it could be taken.
