Heptadecagon

Twelve years ago today, at 2:04 a.m., a little after Tim had returned to the hospital because we'd forgotten the camera (yes, we were those parents), Aaron came into the world. I didn't have the easiest labor: it could have been uneventful (and for the most part, it was), but since the girls were born by scheduled c-section, I knew not what labor entailed. Despite my best efforts to experience a natural childbirth, I feared the pain, and thus, it wasn't until after an epidural was put into place that I allowed myself to truly relax, which in turn helped bring Little Red from the darkness into the light (or from the warmth into the cold, whichever you prefer). I marveled then at the tiny life nestled in my arms, and here we are, a dozen years later, and I'm still marveling at the tween life nestled in my arms. And just like every other year since he's been born, I'm forced to realize that the days pass by so quickly. I have to ask myself, am I gleaning as much ...

Eight years ago this morning, at 1:09 a.m. I gave birth to a little girl named Melina. You all know this because Tim documented that day , and starting sometime in 2010, I began chronicling some of what she (we) went through on a regular basis. I hope that by now, those of you who only know Melina via cyberspace have an inkling of what she's about. But like I said last year , it's actually difficult to say what Melina is about and I think of that on a daily basis, not just on her birthday. Because from day to day, what she says and does can vary. Sometimes, she's writing a story on a Google document. Other times, she's coloring in a notebook. Last night, she was dressed as Tim--complete with baseball cap and plaid shorts--and this afternoon, she jumped on the trampoline like there was no tomorrow. I think of all the times she reads and pretends and looks up historical facts and I wonder how I came to be chosen for this extra special kid. Sadly, I've been bogge...

I'd like to say I have the time and inclination to write something eloquent today, but alas, I don't. I should, since today--July 10, 2015--marks Melina's 7th birthday. Seven! I can hardly believe we're already at that number. When the girls turned seven, Melina was a little over six months old. When Aaron turned seven, Melina was three and a half. I look at her now, at seven years old and think, Where did the time go? How did we get here already? And didn't we have a ball? I'm not kidding when I make that last statement. As many of you know, life with Melina is literally, at times, a ball. As in a full-out formal gathering where we all dance. In tutus. Or ballgowns. Or tuxes or bathing suits. You name it, we've danced in it. But what I really meant is that the last seven years of raising Melina have been (for the most part) pleasant. Fun. Super even. And part of that is because Melina is difficult to describe in one word. I don't want to say that she ...

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that she walks around half-naked. But she's too modest to do that. I mean, we're talking about a person who really doesn't wear shorts--not even in summer--so the idea of going sans pants is ridiculous. Which means she must have at least a few pairs of trousers hanging in her closet. More than a few pairs, probably, considering how many times a year she shops for pants. And yet, at least for the last 20 years or so, she's always searching for those pants. "I need to head out and look for pants," she says, forking the last bits of egg into her mouth. "You don't say." Inside my mind, I reel. I roll my eyes and huff my breath, any number of gestures that exhibit my impatience, all unbeknownst to her since she's looking elswhere. "What do you need the pants for?" I wonder if she is scheduled to attend a function, or if she has accepted a job or a volunteer position. Any of those reasons...

Dear Zoe and Talia, For weeks now, ladies, you've been reminding me--each day--that your 13th birthday is approaching. And as I said in my last post , I've replied--each day--"I'm not ready." At the time, I meant that I hadn't done any birthday shopping and I didn't know what sorts of cakes I'd be making. I've finished those items now. In fact, I have one big surprise for you and a few little surprises in store. I also baked and frosted the cupcakes and two pies are ready to head into the oven. Those tasks are insignificant, though. Because as time went on and your big day loomed closer and closer, I realized that my words, "I'm not ready," actually meant far more than I originally thought. I'm not ready for much, when I think about you two. I'm not ready to see you move to your last year of middle school, since high school is right around the corner. Which means I'm also not ready to see you one year closer to movin...