The Edge

I made Brendan drive us all out to Wellfleet last week during our vacation in Cape Cod.  It was out of the way and took awhile to get there, but I insisted and he relented and even agreed that perhaps it was a good idea.  I just felt this strange need to be there, in a place where I had once stood decades before; I felt as though my soul needed to breathe in that particular air and gaze upon on that particular stretch of sand. 
While standing at the edge of the water, at the point where ocean meets land, I was reminded of some things that seem important and noteworthy.  Before me the sea spread out, wide and expansive, reaching as far as nowhere and more powerful than anything.  The sand dunes, like mountains, plunge down steeply to meet it and in between the two I realized this: we are nothing.  Insignificant.  A mere blip on the radar that is this time on this earth in this universe.  The feeling that came with this realization was one of immediate and overwhelming peace: no matter what I do in this life, the world is much, much bigger than my circumstances, choices, mistakes, or ideas at any moment in time.  It will all go on whether I am here or not, wave after wave will pound the shore and grains of sand will move in the water and wind and rain. 
Then I turned around and saw this:

and this:

Two shivering kids waiting for their mama to finish with her crazy picture taking so they could run on the open expanse in front of them; one husband, knowing his wife needed to see this for some reason that stretches back in time to another family trip that was clouded with grave sadness, waiting patiently for the time to be enough, for the ocean to soak into her pores and restore her.
Seeing them there, waiting for me, I realized that we are bigger than the sky, our actions are broader reaching than any ocean, more grand than any sand dune.  The connections we have with the people around us are the biggest thing I know; I remembered that as much as we are nothing we are also everything, entirely significant.  All I have to do is look in their eyes and I can see it:  we are bigger than we know.  Being at that edge, on that particular stretch of sand, refilled my soul and brought back to the forefront all that I know about life and family and friends and connection: slow down and be, give each other a little room and time when it’s needed, live with intention and listen with an open heart.  Allow them to grow and change, and bend like the dune grass in the wind when they need me to change and grow.  Enjoy this push and pull of life.  Dream bigger than the ocean, but remember my own insignificance in all of this. 
Perhaps this is why the ocean calls to me, why it calls to so many people across time and religion and state and country and continent: to realize that we are everything and nothing all at once.  Maybe we need this reminder as much as we need food and  water, air and shelter.    Maybe we just need to be able to stand on the edge of something and find an inner peace and a reserve within ourselves that fills whatever emptiness the rest of the world and life carves out.  Maybe we just need that reminder to be human again. 

Ms. Chilson

The only problem with having best friends visit from faraway places is that when they leave, I feel as though a chunk of my soul has been packed tidily in their luggage and taken away.  The converse of this, of course, is that she left a chunk of her soul with me, for safe keeping. 
The best part of having best friends visit from faraway places is that while we were together, I felt whole in that way that only happens in those odd moments when my adult life slams back together with my childhood, all of the pieces intertwining to a rarely achieved perfection.  The expressions on her face are the same as they were decades ago and I get it, and she gets it, and we pick up the rhythm of conversation and jokes as if a moment had passed, rather than three years, since we last looked into each other’s laughing eyes.  This visit, we had the extra fun of noting that our boys, born on opposite sides of the world and more than a year apart in age, are nearly carbon copies of each other in temperament and nature, and our girls share a daredevil’s spirit. 
It was so, so fun.  Now, if only I could convince her that she should live next door, that would be something. 

The Summer List

“We write things we want to do over the summer.” says Harrison of
The Summer List.  Oh, but it is so much more than that!  The summer list is my saving grace in an otherwise uncharted, weeks long stretch of time that, admittedly, sometimes scares me.  The Summer List has plans to make, ideas to toss around when the inevitable I’m bored! starts to rear its ugly head, and lofty goals that might never be met but are fun and interesting to talk about.  For the past four summers we have brainstormed as a family all of the things we wanted to do over the summer, both grown-up and child friendly ideas fill out the page and we cross off our achievements as we go.  At the end of the summer, we have proof of our escapades and our kids are armed with plenty of ventures with which to answer that classic first day of school query, What did you do all summer?  This is the best sort of to-do list, with only fun things!
Here, the beginnings of the 2011 version, to be updated as we go along:

• go to Crandall Library
• go swimming in our pool
• go to camp (our family’s camp)
• go to the Great Escape (Six Flags)
• another tour of the beaches at different Lakes
• go out for ice cream
• go fishing
• go to the drive-in
• try making hypertufa troughs
• go to the movies
• start a cutting garden for flowers
• dig in Pie and Mike’s compost pile for worms
• learn to ride bikes without training wheels
• go to concerts in the park (Shepard’s Park, City Park, Crandall Park, etc.)
• go to Crandall Park and play
• go kayaking
• go for lengthy after dinner strolls
• Farmer’s Market!
• go to a baseball game
• play tug of war with Ginger (this from Miss Emma)
• go to the ocean…Cape Cod!
• tie dye t-shirts
• make our own hula hoops
• make a worm bin for compost purposes (and little boy worm digging purposes)

Two Months’ Lessons

The last two months have sucked.  There it is, out loud and in print and I am not ashamed to say that is honestly how I feel about that block of time.  
The kids have been endlessly sick with colds and allergies, rashes, high fevers, and strep throat.  They are better now and I am trying to catch up on sleep without developing bad sleeping-in sorts of habits.  Brendan was an entirely different sort of sick and then had an allergic reaction to the medications he was given, winning us an all day trip to the ER.  My husband, in the best health and fitness of his life,  lost 15 lbs. in three weeks…he’s better now, and we’re thinking that the medications that were supposed to help the problem actually exacerbated things, but it was scary to watch him melt before my eyes.  The word “worry” was given new meaning.  As I watched my babies writhe with fever and as I watched my husband’s face unswell and his speech become normal as the anaphylactic shock went away, I realized how quickly and accidentally we could lose it all.  Time is so, so precious and these people I love are so very important to me, my everything.  I will not waste it. 
Our kitchen…oh dear.  We have been waging an epic battle with Sears over a new range.  It’s not worth going into, really, other than to say we lost and now we’re cooking on a propane camp stove propped on an old door from the basement until we can sort things out and find the time to go appliance shopping yet again.  And you should know that Sears does not always think the customer is right, nor will they make grand gestures to help you when they are very badly wrong.  Enough said.  The camp stove was fun for about ten minutes, but now I just really crave some sort of normalcy in our most-used room.  I learned, though, the greatest lesson from this: Shop local, always.  Deal with a company that is in your town, whose CEO is your neighbor.  Deal with a small company that needs your sale, who will defend their reputation because the bad news about one sale gone wrong could sink them. 
School finished up for both children, a huge relief really, but it came with all of those last-minute preparations and gifts for important people and extra obligations that added to an already stressed family’s schedule.  And if you saw my last deleted post*, kindergarten graduation was not the joyful moment we expected, rather laced with anxiety and fear and an unplanned stage appearance.  I learned that my child’s dignity is worth so much more than a teacher’s idea of the perfect graduation performance.  I learned that is it easy to stand in front of a huge crowd when I am aiding my child in avoidance of terrible embarrassment and shame…imagine, the perfect cure for stage fright!
I took a sewing job on commission and got burned.  It was a highly specific and personalized bag which the client raved about, but she also “misremembered” the price I quoted her for the piece.  She stated that she only budgeted for the price she remembered and would not be able to buy the bag if I had to get the price I actually quoted her.  I sold her the bag at her price (cringes) because it was so personalized that I could not do anything else with the bag or materials if I kept it.  I learned, yet again, to always get things in writing.  I learned that I have to value my work in order for my clients to also value my work, and that standing firm on the price I set is a matter of self respect.  I think I also learned that I don’t really enjoy working on commission because to a certain extent I lose creative authority when I am working toward someone else’s goal.  This requires more thought.
I stopped telling people that we are adopting again.  The people we know and love all know, of course, but I’m not telling casual acquaintances anymore.   For some reason it is hard for people to sustain excitement for the addition of a child to our family when they hear that it will take time for our child to come home, and especially when they hear he will be two.  Their faces fall, they cringe in an obvious way, and they whisper questions to us: Are you sure you want to do that to your family?;  Why will it take so long?  Will he really come home?;  A two year old?  I would never do that.  You’ll miss everything!; Did you get your baby yet?  (this one week after I told her we were adopting internationally again). The dentist, the other parents at school, even some friends have said things like this to our faces, boldly questioning our judgment about our family.  It doesn’t hurt so much as it irritates.  I have learned that our joy alone will have to be enough to sustain us through this long wait and we will have to have faith that the others will come around once he is here.  I have learned that other peoples’ fears do not have to be our own.  I have learned, once again, that the general public knows next to nothing about adoption, but I have also reminded myself that I do not always have to be the good will ambassador.  I have learned that I don’t have to share this with everyone, though I want to shout it from the rooftops.  This semi-secret can be so very sweet, if we let it. 
So, two months’ worth of blech provided a few key life lessons and we will be better for it.  We’ll pace ourselves, make better decisions, and I will work hard on that whole creative self-worth thing.  Today is the first full day of summer break and the relief in the room is palpable.  Do you feel it, too?
*deleted because I realized that posting about it would not be conducive to helping our H6 avoid the embarrassment that could have been. 

Pinki

The same week that we got the joyous news about our new son, we got the terrible news that my Aunt Pinki (Patricia) had passed away.  The youngest of five daughters, she was the one who pushed the envelope, who loved and lived bigger than most.  The stories about her life are epic and entertaining; her sense of adventure was not to be outdone.  Her loss hits me in waves; it is terrible and too soon and very, very sad.
Sitting with the picture of my future son and the picture of the loved one we have just lost, I know this to be true:

Joy and sorrow grow in the same garden; we would not know one without the other. 

I’ll always miss you, Pink. 

Desmond!

He is gorgeous!   We have been studying his tiny fingers and toes, admiring his hairline (so similar to Harrison’s at the same age), and trying to imagine how soft those sweet cheeks are.  Our revised timeline gives us hope for a December or January arrival, sooner if things speed up, slower if they become more backed up.  We will wait with all of the patience we have in our souls for this little one and we will be overjoyed whenever he makes his arrival in our lives.  Until then, we know that he is in very good hands (his foster mother has been taking care of babies since 1980!), being loved and spoiled and delighted in on the other side of the world.  There is an amazing peace in my soul with this knowledge, a well-being that sits in my heart while at the same time my head plays with dates and timelines and what-ifs.  Oh, the Wait…the hardest part, but the part that teaches us so much about ourselves.

In this first picture he is probably 2 months old.

At five months old (above and below).

Sitting with his Foster Mom, whom I have cropped out for her privacy.
So many people have told me they couldn’t do it…they couldn’t wait ten more months for the arrival of a baby that is already ten months old.  And maybe they couldn’t, but I know that we can.  I know that all of us are stronger than we know, more patient than we seem, more able to endure hardships and challenges than we think we are.  I know that all babies come when they are good and ready or when all of the proper stars or paperwork or contractions come together at the right time. 
We know that all children, however they make it home, are well worth the wait.  But I would certainly not complain if he somehow made his way home this summer!

VIP (very important papers)

At our house, this is what “baby-making” looks like. 
More details soon!

Another Backyard Slope

If only I could post all of the pictures from this day.  Oh, there were some doozies: big spills, seriously goofy grins, misplaced hats, and a few mishaps involving a lilac bush.  I have been strictly forbidden from sharing the fun shots by the people in those very shots.  So instead you’ll have to see the cute photos and use your imagination.  We had a ton of good, old-fashioned fun sliding down the very hill that I spent much of my childhood sledding down. 

Ems

Brendan and me

Sir Harrison

With my mom (of the misplaced hat…ahem)

I love this one. My three favorite people!

And just to prove I’m no chicken when it comes to goofy shots, here I am having some of that fun.
I hope you are enjoying the cold and snow, because really it is the only way to survive winters here. 

Merry Merry

We are tucked in at home with our children and our new toys, just basking in the quiet of the day after Christmas. Yesterday was the perfect combination of busy and visit-y, the smiles from our littlest ones lighting up the holiday better than even that one particular house on Glen Street.

And though we had everything we need - love, a home, our children, clean water, food - before the holiday, we are now quite spoiled with gifts that were thoughtful, inspired, and just plain decadent. So it felt really, really good to throw our money into a hat for those who might not be so lucky. Big Brothers/Big Sisters won our lottery this year; it was "my" charity* for the second year in a row (I swear I don't have it rigged) and though all of the entries were worthy, this one holds a special place in my heart.

Merry Christmas, everyone!


*Oliver, this one was for you, because although he was supposed to be making a difference in your life, you made a difference in all of ours. We've never forgotten you...your determination, your ability to survive the worst, and your beautiful smile.

Holiday bonus

It started a few years ago.  We were all used to rushing around and trying to find something meaningful yet within budget to give one another: something pretty for Mom, something outdoorsy for Mike, something cool and interesting for my brother and his girlfriend  (now wife), something useful for Grandma Ann, as well as a little something here and there for everyone else who happened to join in our celebration that given year.  As it turns out, it is not so easy to churn out meaningful, useful, yet budget-able gifts year after year for the same people.  As it does for so many families, Christmas had become about the gifts, not about spending time with one another, or appreciating the season, or even lending a nod to the actual event which we were supposed to be celebrating.

Finally, someone said stop.

It might have been my Mom, or me, or someone else…I can’t remember.  But what followed the stop was something that brought a little meaning back to our holiday.  We decided, as a family, to nix the gifts.  The little kids (so far only my own two) still get a little something special, but the rest of us bring only our checkbooks or a handful of cash and our Christmas spirit.  Some people donate more than others and we don’t keep track of who brought what; we each donate what we can and that is enough.  We throw all of the money into a jar and as our holiday gathering gets underway, we each take a few moments to write down the name of a charity on a slip of paper.  We don’t limit the selection to local organizations, just whatever charity we each hold dear to our hearts.  We have had charities ranging from local soup kitchens and crisis pregnancy centers to homes for AIDS orphans in Ethiopia.  It’s a mixed bag of organizations that try to do good in the world, and we always find it interesting to see what everyone else has written down.

The names go in a basket, and before we part ways for other celebrations, gatherings, or quiet reflection, one of the littlest among us will choose a name from the slips of paper and all of the money we’ve collected goes to that charity.  The check is usually substantial, a Holiday bonus for an organization that has probably never heard of any of us.  A Holiday bonus that buys diapers or baby cribs or anti-retroviral medication or the simplest gift of all: food for the hungry.

And it is a Holiday bonus for all of us, too.  We don’t spend as much time at the mall, which means we can spend more time with those we love.  We have less stress, less panic over finding just the right thing.  Instead of ripping through a mountain of paper and ribbons and trying to feign excitement for something that we truly don’t want or need, we talk and laugh and tell stories and make memories.  And you know what?  It feels good.  It feels good to know that instead of another sweater or pair of earrings, someone who actually has need is going to be helped.  That is the very best Holiday bonus I can think of.


It’s Madhouse Wednesday…er, Thursday? I am always so late.   Here are the others who play along…some every week, others when they can (and some habitually late, but I won’t mention any names…ahem).  You can join in the fun, too!  Let me know if you want in and we’ll get your blog added to the list.
Allison – Allimonster Speaks
Barb – Spencer Hill Spinning & Dyeing
Batty – Batty’s Adventures in Spooky Knitting
Dave – Notes from the Field
Eileen - Art Deco Diva Knits
Evil Twin’s Wife – The Glamorous Life of a Hausfrau
G – Not-A-Box
Heather – She Flies With Her Own Wings
Jennifer – Ask Poops, Please
JMLC – Daydreams and Ruminations
Kate – One More Thing
LC – LC in Sunny So Cal
Louise – Child of Grace
Marcy – Mittentime
Melanie – usually, things happen
Nikki – Land of the Free, Home of the Depressed
Sara – yoyu mama

Elopement!

There is something so romantic about an elopement, isn’t there?  Two people in love who just don’t care about the big wedding, finding it more important to just make it official and to begin their life together in commitment.  Because when you are in love, and you are planning to spend your life together, why wait to get started?  Rather than repeat their vows in front of the masses, they hold hands quietly in their very own yard and make their promises to each other with the trees and the water, the wind and the rain as their witnesses.  Beautiful!
Congratulations, my big brother, and welcome the the family, my new sister (in-law).  We love you very, very, very much!

So Happy Together

  
When I was a little girl my grandparents had one of those old record players that was more of a sideboard than music making machine.  It took up half of their living room and the inside was lined in soft red felt.  Tucked inside were albums left behind by my father and his siblings, plus a few beloved by my grandmother…Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton come to mind.  I spent countless hours listening to the slightly scratchy sound of record revolving beneath needle, singing, badly I am sure, you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.  Those records were the soundtrack of my early childhood, the songs I sang while swinging and roller skating and playing dolls on their front lawn.

My very favorite album was a 45 by The Turtles: So Happy Together.  I cannot imagine how much I annoyed my grandparents by listening to that record over and over and over again.  I remember so clearly the feeling of singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs and twirling around and around in the space between my grandmother’s rocking chair and the record player, making myself dizzy with motion and high ideals for my future.  So happy together!  For a child of divorced parents the idea that love could last, that people could be happy together for the long haul, was captivating. 

Fast forward nearly three decades and I still know all of the words to that song.  I sing it in the shower when no one else is listening and I still believe in those high ideals.  Love can last.  My past bumps into my future and I have just celebrated 11 years with the man who helps me believe, every day, that anything is possible.  I know now that love takes work, that the happiness we achieve is special because we are both invested in it and we both want to move forward side by side.  We can be happy together because we are partners on the same team. 

The song was right, the lyrics were true: 

I can’t see me loving nobody but you

for all my life

when you’re with me

baby the skies will be blue

for all my life

me and you

and you and me

no matter how they tossed the dice

it had to be

the only one for me is you

and you for me

so happy together

I love you, Brendan.  Thank you for making so happy together possible.

Balloons!

There is nothing quite so neat, so special, so completely cool, as watching a hot air balloon go from fabric on the ground to a fully inflated, fire breathing bauble in the sky. 
One of our favorite parts of living here is being so close the Adirondack Balloon Festival’s annual kick-off event.  Just a quick walk through our neighborhood and we’re in the park, so close to the inflating balloons that we can touch them.  The crowd parts as the inflating balloons begin to eat up the grassy real estate, and suddenly the lawn is empty again as the balloon goes upright.  Children squeal in delight as the sun lights up the fabric, and the oldest in the crowd are young again as they wave to the passengers tucked carefully into each balloon basket for lift-off.  Up, up, and away!  They rise quickly, becoming mere specs in the sunset in a few moments time.  I don’t care what physics are involved, that moment is pure magic!
We had a blast at last night’s event, especially with the addition of the Tubby Tubes slide…for free! 

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Just Right

We’ve got a new place to add to our list of favorites, a new place to go and hide away from the world for just a little while.  It is wonderful, so very quiet and still, with birds and butterflies and chipmunks and turtles, too. 
I love it. 
It isn’t so far that we can’t sneak away for the afternoon and be back before dinner, but it’s far enough that it feels like another world entirely.  There are nice neighbors who drop off the best chocolate milk ever, and the water is cool and glassy, perfect for cutting into with a sharp dive. 
Almost as soon as we arrive the kinks work themselves out of my shoulders and I forget for a little while that my kids are forging ahead into their school lives next week and that my life is going to be, suddenly, much more empty.  I forget the dishes, the laundry, and the floors that need cleaning.  I forget that I am 33 with a family and dogs and a house. 
At camp, for a little while, I just am. 
I am the kid that sneaks down the dock for just one more swim before we leave.  I am the mom in the moment, watching her babies show off their latest swimming accomplishments.  I am the daughter having a beer with her mom at 3 in the afternoon.  I am the big-kid having a raft race with my son, and trying hard to win because he’s fast.  I sing the whole ride there and the entire way home.  I laugh, with my mouth and my eyes. 
Mom, you never have to buy me another present, ever, as long as you keep the camp.  Thank you!!!!!!

Up, Up, and Away

We're Here

We are in the new (old) house.  We are here, living with odd sleeping arrangements while upstairs floors are being refinished, piecing together a new life with various odds and ends of stuff from our old one, making due with what we have this day, while we wait for the rest of our belongings to arrive and be unpacked sometime in the (hopefully) near future.  We are all, relatively, unscathed by the move.  Except for Charlotte, who has taken to defecating in the house and generally being a big pain in the bum.

Let it be known that moving is not easy.

In the space of time that occurred between my last post and this one, we have:

1. Celebrated Emma's THIRD birthday

2.  Said goodbye to our home of over five years

3. Had a lovely end of summer vacation at Lapland Lake

4. Celebrated Emma's very first day of preschool

5.  Celebrated Harry's first day of Pre-K

6.  Walked to the balloon festival from our new-old house

7.  Shuffled back and forth to different beds no fewer than six times while waiting for closings and for our floors to be refinished (stinky oil poly)

8.  Welcomed the new West baby to the world.  Congrats, Jeremy and Michele, and big siblings Isaac and Isabelle.  We can't wait to meet the new little guy!



It's been a busy few weeks and we are, understandably, kind of exhausted.  We're hoping to get back on track now that we are finally living in our house.  We have a million things to do but most importantly we are trying to maintain some sort of schedule, some sort of sanity and security for our kids whose lives have been so disrupted these past few weeks.  Soon, I tell myself, soon.

Aches and Pains

Things are bit sore around here today: backs, arms, and legs all ache from lifting and heaving boxes into our PODS container.  I am afraid to sit for too long lest my muscles seize up and stick me in this chair for good.  I don't even like this chair that much.  Ibuprofen has become a part of our regular nutrition schedule; without it, like the Tin Man himself, we would simply cease to move.

Harrison and Emma are out of sorts.  They understand at a basic level that we are moving.  They get mildly excited and wound up when we pack boxes, seeming almost too enthusiastic to throw in their favorite stuffed bunny (Silly Bob has been rescued from the doom of storage several times), but Emma cried when we took the spare twin bed out of her room.  Elation melts into a puddle, giggles sometimes end in tears, and then the tears float back up into wide smiles and eager anticipation.  This is hard on all of us, but the little ones who have no control feel it in waves.  We have no way of explaining to them, in terms they will understand, that we are making this move for their benefit.  Yes, we'll get the thrill of living in a house we find fantastic, but the real reasons for making the move lie with the futures of our children.  But you can't tell that to a four year old, nor a two year old.

Because 'Happily Ever After' is Really Just the Beginning of the NextStory

Once upon a time a boy and a girl fell in love.  They got married, bought a house, sold it, bought another house, sold it, bought another house, and for awhile they lived happily ever after.  And then the boy and the girl wanted a family so they brought home a rabbit and a dog, and then another dog and for awhile they lived happily ever after.  The boy and girl went on to adopt two gloriously funny and wildly wonderful kids and they lived happily ever after.

And while the boy and the girl were living happily ever after with their two kids, two dogs, and one house rabbit, they found a house that they loved.  It was a beautiful old house, full of architectural detail and the kind of quality craftmsanship that is difficult to come by in this day and age, and they wanted this house.  They wanted to be the family to bring it back to life, to make it shine and glow from the inside out with love.  But this house was right next to a sometimes stinky paper mill and the work it needed was big and scary.  The boy and girl let this house fall away, although sometimes they would look at the pictures they had taken of it and they would dream about the "what ifs" with a mixture of relief and regret.

And then one day the boy and the girl were driving through the same fun little city and they came across an open house sign.  On a whim they went in, bringing with them their wild and funny kids, and the girl fell in love all over again as she watched her children laugh and play in the big open rooms on the old hardwood floors.  Over time the boy fell in love, too, with the idea of pocket doors and a grand old staircase, a fireplace with original tile and a neighborhood within walking distance to the very cute downtown and the very nice parochial school.  The boy and girl looked at each other with big questions in their eyes, then they talked and talked and wondered and worried and thought and crunched numbers, until eventually they decided, in a very grown-up and well-thought-out way, that this house should not slip away, that this house could shine from the inside out with their love, that this house could be the place where their children could grow up surrounded by history and community.

The boy and the girl made a leap of faith in the form of an offer, they negotiated, they got the house, and they put their own house on the market.  And then the boy and the girl accepted an offer on their house.  They were nervous and excited, and they lived happily ever after.

Fireside

It is cold here.  When I dropped Harrison off at school today my car’s thermometer read –7 degrees, despite the fact that the sun was up and blazing brightly in the sky.  This is the kind of cold that causes any moisture in your nose or mouth to freeze when you inhale, the kind of cold that takes your breath away.   It makes our skin dry, our hair alive with static electricity, and makes going outside for any length of time with two small children out of the question.  And so it is that we find ourselves  hunkered down in the house, with blankets and sweaters and extra thick socks to keep us warm.  Slippers would be nice, but Harry, Emma, and I all seem to be in need of that particular wardrobe item. 
Our woodstove is working overtime this week, and we feel so lucky to have it. I love sitting next to it and absorbing the heat it radiates.  I love watching the flames dance and wiggle in their effort to spread warmth throughout our home.  I especially love our stove at night after the kids have had a bath, when we wrap them into their bathrobes and send them out to sit in front of the fire.  We stayed there for over an hour last night, until well past bedtime, just telling each other stories, singing lullabies, listening to the kids’ amusing chatter, and soaking up the coziness of family and love and warmth before bundling them into their footie pajamas and then off to bed.  It was simple and lovely, made more so because it was nothing planned, just a spontaneous moment in which each of us declined to mention mundane things like bed time and tooth brushing.  It strikes me that so often the best of times, the very best memories I have with my husband and my children, are those that come about completely on accident. 

C'mon 2009!

Tomorrow begins a new year, so it only makes sense to do the blog recap thing as we say so long to 2008. So, in no particular order of importance, in 2008...

...Harrison turned three and finally potty trained.

...Emma learned how to run and was finally able to sort of keep up with her big brother.

...Brendan nearly completed our swimming pool deck before the snow began to fly, with much help in the form of manual labor and moral support from our families. Big thanks to everyone for pitching in!

...Max the Rabbit left us, leaving a hole in our hearts that was formerly filled with his funny bunny ways. You are fondly remembered, Max.

...I started to learn to play the guitar and someday I hope to be able to play something without looking at my hands.

...Harrison got his first two wheel bike and after two days of riding declared that he was ready for us to remove the training wheels. We told him that he might be ready, but we are not. And that is the truth.

...We took a lovely family vacation at Lapland Lake for the second year in a row and vowed to return again in 2009.

...I lost my Grandma and somehow manage to smile every time I think of her, despite being overwhelmingly sad that she is gone.

...Emma turned two and FINALLY started using words and sentences! Hooray for big leaps in development!

...Harrison started preschool and thrived on the structure of it all, leaving Emma and I to our own devices for seven hours a week. It's been lovely getting to know my daughter, and lovelier still knowing that Harrison is socially and developmentally on target with his peers.

...Brendan got an iTouch for Christmas and was never heard from again. Just kidding. But he is quite enamored of his new technology, as well as the cool factor that goes along with it.

...I ran my first 5k, the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Albany, NY. It was a completely humbling yet life-affirming experience and I cannot wait to start training for the race this spring. I ran for our lost school-mate, Lisa Joseph, and my mom's friend, Tonya Markham.

...We made the best purchase for our house ever when we got a woodstove. I am sitting beside it right now, all toasty warm and cozy.

...We finalized Emma's adoption, becoming an official family of four!

...We celebrated with numerous family and friends as babies were born and other adoptions were finalized. It is so much fun to see other families growing!

...We drank a lot of tea.  Which we always do, but we drink so much that it is certainly worthy of mention.

We won some, we lost some. We laughed and cried, we spent happy days and frustrated days, we wished some days away and hoped others would stretch on forever. And now, sitting here on this last night of the year it seems as though all of it, all of those millions of moments, went by in a flash. I can honestly say that I am looking forward to 2009 and all that it may, or may not, bring. I am looking forward with great hopes for our families, friends, country, and world.

Wishing you and yours a very happy, safe, and peaceful New Year!