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Browsing Tag: Cian

More Than You Can Shake a Stick At

The kids were off school this past Friday for their spring break, and David took off work so that we could do something as a family. I don’t know what it’s like in your world, but in ours there are times where all the red flags start flying and we realize that we need a “reset” day: just some time together to do something a bit different, something that means we get to hang out together, experiencing something new–and something that, hopefully, will require lots and lots of walking so as to tire the kids out so they sleep in the next day. (It’s all for the kids, I tell you.) So, this past Friday we decided on a road trip to Washington, D.C., with the idea of seeing some dinosaur bones. We drove a couple hours into Maryland from our house in Pennsylvania, then surprised our suburban children with their first Metro ride (those initial moments of the train ride were the most exciting 30 seconds of their day…until they realized that they were going to look at nothing but dark tunnel walls for the next…

I’d Say There’s No Harm in That at All

The “baby” turned five over the holidays, which officially means that he’s not a baby and I need to give up the denial before it starts to get kind of creepy. His feet are huge. His hands are ginormous, to use one of his favorite words. He’s tall enough that I have to go up a size in his clothes again and he’s almost outgrown his car seat and he’s big enough that he’s starting to out-eat most adults when we sit down to meals. Pretty soon I’m going to be surrounded by all these friendly giants that somehow came out of me but are towering over me and I’m just not ready for that. Cian, by bringing up the rear, is simply rubbing it in. And yet: “I don’t feel five. I only feel four.” “You’re the best mom in the world. You’re so nice to me. You give me ginormous cookies.” “Mom? What if dinosaurs were real? And we could eat them and they lived in our house and our…

Cian is Four

On the day Cian was born, he stayed awake until just before midnight, only to fall asleep and be woken in the same moment by the sounds of fireworks going off outside the window of our hospital room. It had been a hectic day with a more frenetic night–he nursed constantly, and I was still trying to recover from both the c-section and the new knowledge that the end of my pregnancy could’ve ended catastrophically–it turned out that I had a uterine window so thin that when my doctor opened me up for the delivery she could actually see him through it, waiting for us. I still don’t like to type the words out loud for the memory of the fear it brings with it. But he’s here, playing beside me in his Santa Claus pajamas. A friend of mine gave him a book filled with comic book heroes (“Mom! Is dat I-don Man? He’s a super here-doe!”), and he’s enthralled. He’s incredible, and wicked smart, and talks nonstop, asking questions and giving me answers to questions I didn…