Tuesday, May 25, 2010


Dear 2020,

I have been catching glimpses of you for a while now. We have talked often of what you might bring and of how we might evolve into you. I have found it easier to look backward than to project forward. I have memories stored that have left me breathless, but to project into them is something I believed impossible.

I hold close the memory of when my sweet little curly haired girl became helpless to the virus within her and had to be hospitalized at 9 months old. I remember so clearly the paramedics whisking away her limp, naked, little body in her car seat strapped to a stretcher. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to go back and redo whatever I could have done to prevent that moment from happening. At the hospital I believed that if I just held her the whole night instead of placing her in the metal crib I could will her better on my own. That I alone could take away her pain and make her breathe. That I could protect her and keep her safe from the world.

Last night my sweet little curly haired girl sat on a bench crying and coughing. I rushed over to her to see if she could breathe. Instinctively, I began the firm pats on the back between her shoulder blades, to which she squirmed away from me slightly and said she was fine. I asked her why she was crying. She said she was sad. She said Fiona's kiss couldn't save Schreck and he died. She told me Fiona loved Schreck but she couldn't save him and that wasn't fair. And suddenly it was me who couldn't breathe.

2020, I know you could be the year that some boy comes along and breaks my little girl's heart. You could be the year she learns love sometimes isn't enough to save us. That we can't will things to be simply by loving them. It will be a moment I will want to go back and redo whatever I can to keep that reality from her a little bit longer, take away her pain, protect her, and keep her safe from the world. By then she will be too big to hold through the night. Yet I will still attempt to will away her heartache.

Until then I will prepare her. I will show her that love saves us from more than anyone is capable of believing.

Monday, May 10, 2010


Three adorable kids + only two fists ejected and a screamer = A suprisingly calm Mother's Day.

"Mom aren't you proud of us? For Mother's day you asked us to be nice and we did pretty good except for when Caitlyn was bugging me." - Hollywood

"Mom since it's Mother's Day, I would like you to go on a bike ride with me." -Curly

"Mom, mom, mom - Whoagan ruined my life! MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM - Kaykin hurted me and won't get me a nan-daid." - The Wee One

I sometimes find it shocking that as a teenager I never really wanted children of my own.