Waaaaaah! (For Cole and Avery)

I assume that the minutes which have made up Lynnette’s first half-day back at work must feel to her like individual hours that have passed at a glacial pace. She must have already spent an hour or so thinking up ways she could extend her leave. She had 847 emails awaiting her return. That’s insane. I have a minor panic attack whenever my unread work emails creep toward 30.


Chubby Boy!


P.I.T.A. Girl!

Lynnette spent the better part of yesterday afternoon and last night wrestling with bouts of fake crying (so that she wouldn’t real cry) that I found pretty funny. I have a fake cry, too, but it sounds like hur-hur-hur as opposed to Lynnette’s elegant waaaah! I suppose once Madison learns to fake cry, we’ll have our own variation on the Bluth’s chicken dances. Awesome.

I know that Lynnette is beyond bummed that she’s blowing through emails rather than spending that time with Cole and Avery. I also know why. But I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand it because although I can (and have) put on intense weight, I can never be pregnant and give birth and know what any of that is like.

There’s a kind of attentiveness and fondness in Lynnette’s interactions with Cole and Avery that I could never equal or even try to counterfeit. Cole and Avery and Madison are pieces of me like they are pieces of Lynnette, but not in the same way. Basically, I brought a single ingredient to a cookout, gave it to Lynnette, then plopped down on the couch to watch TV while she prepped, cooked, and served two main dishes. Genetically, they’re 50% me, but in terms of effort, it’s closer to 5% or less. Lynnette’s an amazing mother. I’m a pretty okay dad.

When I started my blog, it was for me. It was an outlet for some of the thoughts I developed over the course of the day. I wanted to entertain my friends, flex the little writing ability I had, make some jokes, and post some pictures. Obviously, over time, the focus of these entries shifted to represent the same thing that happened to my own parents: my family became my life and everything else kind of fell away.

Now, I still write these entries for me, but it’s even more selfish that ever. I’m going to forget everything. I know this. I can no longer pass my own self-created sobriety test of naming any player at any position on any Major League Baseball team. So I write as much of it down as I can. And it’s worth it. Madison spends at least three nights a week reading old entries on her iPad. Once in a while, she’ll laugh hysterically while sitting on the couch and I’ll ask her what’s so funny. “I’m reading about when Mom fell down at Lanikai,” she’ll say, or “You wrote about your pink underwear.” In fact, one day, I had 120 views of my site, but only 70 visitors. Madison is my most loyal reader.

Someday Cole and Avery will learn to read on their iPad 3000s. I hope they come across every single entry from the last three months so they know exactly what our family went through when they popped up into our lives. I hope they stumble across this entry so they know that Lynnette loves them in a way that my words are incapable of conveying. I want them to know that she carried them and went hungry for them and ate ice chips for three days for them. I want them to know that for three months Lynnette never slept for longer than 4 hours in a row; that she didn’t eat her favorite spicy and dairy foods; that she carried all of us when no one else could or would; that when she punishes them or disagrees with them, it’s only because she loves them enough to raise them correctly. I want them to know how lucky they are, because everyone deserves to have someone like that in their lives, but not all of us get them.


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