I Was Going to Call and Wish You a Happy Birthday ...

until I remembered you were not there. And, once again, I am struck by the thought -

I can accept you are dead ...

I just cannot believe you are gone.

If the internet reaches to Heaven, Dad, Happy Birthday.

About a Pop-pa ... A Poem ...

About a Pop-pa

A Poem by Sarah, age 8

A Pop-pa gives you comfort and warmth,

And smiles like the sun in spring.

A Pop-pa gives you just about,

Everything.

He makes sure you are happy and safe,

And makes you stuffed with chocolate and cake.

You think you have everything,

You could want and need.

Yet he still finds a way

To stuff something in between.

It's funny what you find when you deep-clean a drawer.

Happy Birthday ...

Today is the Younger Twin's birthday - the big 12. He just stopped by my desk to ask if he could get a picture off the computer to use as the screen-saver on his ipod, his gift from his big brother. The picture he wants? One of his littlest sister. He is a good boy.


He loves to read, especially the works of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. He thinks in the abstract, loves conundrums, and equivocates with the best of them. When I wondered at the lack of use his deodorant is getting, he responded by informing me that the package claims "48-hour protection", therefore necessitating only an every third day application.

He is not terribly outgoing, loves deeply, and is quite shy. His lack of athletic prowess is not a factor in causing low self-esteem, because he is home-schooled. The only one to make fun of him is me - and I do. After all, he regularly falls while sitting - quite a feat in and of itself.

His best friend is his older sister. If separated by more than a few hours, each will start to pace with anticipation, so much to tell the other that it pains them to hold it in. And since nothing seemingly that exciting happens in these here parts, I am always astounded at the depth and breadth of their conversations. I do not believe I have ever had that much to say to another human being in my life - not once, not collectively.

About a week ago, we went swimming. He waded over to me in the pool, put his arms around me and said, "I just felt like giving you a hug." I am blessed to be his mother.

Happy birthday, kiddo. I love you like a son!!!

Six Weeks in to a New School Year ...

There have been trips to the park ...

Lots of studying ...

Many victories ...

Some defeats ...

Mastering of advanced mathematical concepts ...

Breaks for nourishment ...

Deep thoughts ...

Disguises ...

and learning.

Littering ... Yes or No?

For a long time, I kept a notebook in my car in which I would jot down the license plate number of the slobs who threw cigarette butts out of their car windows. I never did anything with that information, but it helped me deal with my anger. But when I see these disgusting vestiges of a filthy habit strewn about private property ... C'mon, have some respect for the people who have to clean up after you.

Assumptions and Dirty Diapers ...

When the baby comes into the school room with something resembling chocolate on her mouth, do not assume it to be chocolate ... just saying!

Ms. Pre-Viable Turns Two ...

Ms. Pre-Viable rides a bike

Ms. Pre-Viable opens a gift


Ms. Pre-Viable has a snack

Ms. Pre-Viable likes the Blue's Clues

Ms. Pre-Viable loves the outdoors

Ms. Pre-Viable wants to take a drive

Snarky tone? Perhaps. I am extremely thankful to all the doctors and nurses who tended to Emma. But, the truth is, they did not want to. They wanted to let her just die. "Go to sleep, and when you wake in the morning she will be gone." But she wasn't. And, yes, it was expensive to have a baby in the NICU. Especially for seven months. But she survived. She is amazing, and intelligent, and thoughtful, and contemplative ... the adjectives abound. We love her dearly. And she is two - so watch out!