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Browsing Tag: birthday

Cian Turns Six and Has Questions: Maybe He’ll Help Me Figure Out the Answer to Some of Them

Cian has a bit of a speech impediment–if you’ve just met him, you might have some trouble understanding his “th” sounds, say–but that doesn’t stop the child from talking, usually constantly, usually about thirty different topics in the span of as many seconds. Last Saturday, I drove him and his sister Saoirse to a gym about an hour away from our house for her basketball game. The boy talked the entire time. I say this without exaggeration. Cian spoke, without stopping, the entire 54 minutes it took us to get from our house to the gym. He talked as he got out of the car and took my hand, and he kept talking as he followed us into the building. It had gotten to the point where I just turned the radio up and muttered, “Uh-huh. Uh-huh” at regular intervals on the drive because I’m pretty sure he didn’t really need me to listen in the first place. Saoirse said, “Mom. You’re not even listening to him,” and when I made eye contact with her in the rear…

The First is Ten

My biggest girl turned 10 this weekend. Let me have a moment to let that sink in. I could go on about how talented Saoirse is. The music. The writing. But you don’t want to hear it. And I can’t tell you about it without the seams of my skin bursting with all of sorts of brag-y pride. I could tell you how strong she is, how much she’s grown, how steadily she’s become confident in her own body: the way she moves down a basketball court, how she runs across the school parking lot toward me at the end of the day. But you don’t care about that. You have your own kids and nieces and nephews to admire. I could tell you how much she seems like me though she looks like her dad. How he saw her during class a couple of weeks ago–the children were doing a writing exercise–and was taken aback by how the class business swirled around her, but she kept her head down, did the work, didn’t get distracted by questions and chatter and conversation. It…

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…