Birthday Season

Lucy, Max and Harper have the fortune of all being born within two weeks of each other. Max is the first on January 28th and then Harper on February 9th and then Lucy on February 21st.  This wasn’t a problem when they were small and willing to combine parties but now that they are older – with separate friends and separate interests – well, this February came pretty close to killing me.  I would love to write a blog post about each of them, but even that seems like too much.  Instead,  I submit a brief paragraph about each, in honor of their birthdays.


I’m afraid my sweetheart that you have the misfortune of being exactly like your mother. As you grow up this comparison cannot be ignored.  Unfortunately, we share the good and bad qualities.  You are smart, a reader, stubborn, competitive, overly dramatic, a loyal friend, logical thinker, approval seeker and naturally prone to worry.  You are me and I am you.

However, there are some things that are uniquely you – that no other person can claim.  You have started to sing – quietly and when you don’t think anybody is listening – your voice is sweet and strong.  You are quite artistic and love to color and craft and create things (I’m secretly hoping that this turns into a love of cooking).  You like to make people laugh and indeed are quite the “life of the party” when you are with your friends.

Most of all, you are the child that nobody thought I could have and therefore are a miracle. A strong, beautiful, brave miracle.


You turned six years old this year but it is rather irrelevant since I still think of you as being four.  When your sister was this age I expected her to be reading, and writing and solving complex equations.  But with you, well, I just want to keep you little.

The good news is that you are a bit on the short side for your age and your subtle speech impediment allows me to continue to think of you as my baby boy. However, I can tell that you aren’t going to allow me to hold on to this illusion for much longer.

You started Kindergarten this year and your zeal for school has left me a bit behind. You have not shed a single tear about leaving home — leaving Mom.  You LOVE all the friends you have made and your teacher (Mrs. Kerby) and everything related to being at school. You love lunch and music, and gym and recess.  You openly admit that you are neither the smartest kid in your class nor the best behaved.  You are beautifully average in every way.


You are the child that I don’t understand.  You are nothing like me. You are sweet and energetic and strong as an ox.  You play hard – sleep hard – and aren’t easily persuaded to do things you don’t fundamentally want to do.  You laugh hard and deep and are a child of willful passions.  You still refuse to wear socks.  You are vocal about your clothing choices, frequently rip off you diaper for no reason and do not hesitate to throw a punch.  You are talking up a storm and even though few people understand you, you don’t hesitate to just talk louder.

However, like your sister, you are the child that was not to be. You were my “late in life” child”, my “you can’t be 40 child”.  And when your little hand finds its way into mine and you nudge me along to join in your fun I realize how blessed I am to have you.  I am inextricably intertwined into Lucy’s life due to our similarities but with you Harper – well, I’m just glad I got an invitation.  You have allowed me to be a part of your life and I will enjoy every moment you choose to give me.

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