March 23, 2017

STORIES OF FAMILY | February

You know so many letters. It is not a surprise that “r” is your favorite.   You love saying the sound and then naming the family member whose name starts with that letter: “Mmmm is for Mama!” You notice them everywhere: on cereal boxes, in books, even outside the car window when we’re driving. Today you learned a new letter so you could write a birthday card for your friend. You were so proud.

We already have to stop spelling things to communicate behind your back. Perhaps we need to brush up on our French.


To date, we have a better success rate of peeing on the floor while waiting for the bath to fill than peeing in the toilet. But the leisure reading couldn’t get more adorable.


Aunt Meg’s wedding was perfect. The road trip uneventful, the weather warmer than our June wedding. Robo made it down the aisle with the rings and there were no major meltdowns with so many missed naps. While the endless stream of cracker wrappers were deafening when echoing through a quiet church, at least they helped curtail the squirming during the ceremony. And Grandma stocked the reception with coloring books and slinkies, which meant we coasted through dinner and toasts. It was a perfect night.

Then at 8:00pm the first boy went down. Vomit all over himself, his pack and play, his precious blankets. Robo succumbed at 2:45am, soaking the hotel comforter, pillows, and mattress. I began to feel nauseous during my third (or fourth?) round of washing vomit covered blankets in the bathroom sink. It continued, often without warning, throughout the next morning. And by the morning, I wasn’t any help either.

Some of us fared better on the ride home than others. Robo last spewed in the hotel’s revolving doorway just before he got into the car. He slept most of the way home with exhaustion. Me? Suffice it to say that it’s a good thing I brought an entire roll of plastic bags from the hotel room.


I thought we had it in the bag. You barely blink at home when I leave to work. At swimming you’re so fearless that your teacher has to watch so you don’t dive into the pool before I’m there to catch you. Leaving for half an hour at ECFE? Piece of cake!

But as soon as I said goodbye that first day, your eyes filled with tears, your lip trembled, and you began THE WAIL. The one where you’re so upset that you can’t catch your breath, mouth open in a wide O, until you finally suck air in and let the whole world hear your discontent. I tried to be confident. I told you I loved you and I’d be back soon. But when I returned you immediately grabbed my sleeve tight in your chubby fist, tears fading into hiccups, and you remained firmly in my lap for the remainder of the class.

Better luck next time.


To see more of this project, you can follow along from the beginning here.

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