Casey Henry and Lila- who let me into their corner about 6 months ago- and whose friendships with me are full of such laughter and silliness.
Stacey Walls and I, before Seth's birth. We could be sisters......



Life in our culture can be very transient- we move for jobs, better schools, bigger houses, politics....Tom and I have relocated our family four times since Lily's birth, and through it all, have gained and lost a number of close friends (or whom we thought were close friends- you find out the truth very quickly when being in relationship isn't so convenient anymore). Since moving to Pittsburgh, especially within the last year, I've formed some frienships which are extremely meaningful to me, and ones which I hope will survive any future transitions (on our part or theirs). I got to spend time with each of these women yesterday and it really made me feel such appreciation for the depth of our conversations and spiritual connections (try not to gag- that was really sappy). Its so refreshing to be able to show your true colors (mine are rather fluorescent sometimes, I know) and still be welcome back. Its nice that they, mutually exclusive of one another, are so genuine in their caring for me and my kids, and in nurturing our friendship beyond the surface level. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for including me in your lives. My life is richer for the hours I've spent with you.

I'm having a sad morning. I headed off to Community Bible Study , after much stress (seth's car seat wasn't attached, no one had their shoes on, liam couldn't find his backpack....)only to turn around and come home. I've been having this gut feeling that I should quit this part of my life for a while, as Seth is miserable and the process of getting into the city is long (about an hour, with rush hour traffic), arduous, and makes me cranky. Afterward, on the return drive, I had a thought provoking conversation with my friend Beth: if getting to church, or the like, makes you stressed out and mean, it goes against the very fiber of what spirituality is to be gained by going and, therefore, does more harm than good. She's right. Thursday mornings have been hard on the boys and I since we began attending CBS last fall. I chose to go to a group that meets in a more diverse part of Pittsburgh, so it is quite a haul to get there. While it has been a remarkable time for me, and I've learned so much about the Bible by being in this study, it has only been a marginal experience for the boys- and perhaps one that doesn't lend itself to that peace of Jesus. I'm going to be taking inventory of my life this week, seeking to uncover ways that I can simplify our schedule so that life is more joyful and less hectic. But letting go of something I've counted on is hard and I will be missing my CBS friends tremendously.

Lily and Liam- My "good enough" kids


I wonder if it is a natural tendency for mothers (and fathers) to equate a child's performance in school with their worthiness as parents...I say this because I find myself lurking on the edges of shame when I hear other mothers speak of their children's reading aptitude (it happened on the playground today, and I caught myself in a moment of doubt). It doesn't last very long, and honestly, deep in my soul, I know that my kids are really smart- even if they don't measure up according to the public education system (but why do I feel the need to mention that they are smart? what is smart? and what does it have to do with me?). It's that competitive nature that hurls us into those dark corners where we don't like to say we've been- where we want to believe that because we are such great people, our children will all be "talented and gifted" according to some bureaucrat somewhere, who makes those judgement calls. I remember my friend Julie laughing at how parents, at orientation meetings, would openly ask about the "accelerated programs" that were available, because THEIR kids will SURELY need them, but rarely ever inquired as to the special education services. That "what if" doesn't really cross our minds, does it, until it happens.

Lily struggled enormously with learning to read and did not accomplish this milestone during that kindergarten through first grade year, as is considered "normal" in our society. Oh, the tears I cried that she just wasn't getting it. And oh the stress she must have felt as a result. Tom and I removed her from the private school she was attending, unschooled her (let her learn through life with very little coercion as far as forced learning is concerned). By the time we moved to Pittsburgh, and she chose to go back to school, she was on "grade level," due not, in my opinion, to any greatness of mine but because that was her time. Now, in fourth grade, Lily enjoys books as much as any of her peers and could probably read anything put in front of her.

Liam will be seven years old in November and he is in his second year of working daily with a reading specialist. And he's having a rough go of it, in some respects, with the sight words he's asked to memorize every week. I spend a lot of time with him, playing match the sight word, go fish for the sight word..., giving out prizes for motivation- attempting to get him over this hump. But, I must say, I really do wonder if our lack of acceptance of children for who they are and their own time lines for development, does more harm than good. I worry that by harping on this subject too much, Liam will feel that he is not "good enough" as the person that he is- smart, funny, giving, and an incredible spirit- reading well or not. And, if he doesn't have the privilege of time-off from school, will this cycle of being "behind" ever end?

Anyone who knows me well can testify to the fact that I make reference, fairly regularly, to my pervasive ADD issues. A couple of years ago, right after we moved here, I saw a definition of attention deficit disorder and immediately made a self-diagnosis (then had a professional come to the same conclusion)and actually felt quite a bit of relief. All my life I have considered myself a flunky at the art of getting it together, losing everything from my glasses, to retainers, to pens, notes, textbooks. You name it, I've lost it, at least once. I also have struggled to manage my time as far as schoolwork, as both a student and elementary school teacher, and then as a paralegal and now a mother. Follow-through is very hard, though I can perform at very high levels- often turning out marvelous creations, especially in the artistic expression department. Now, as a mother of FOUR (is that really true?), the only way I can keep from hurling myself over the proverbial edge of a cliff, at all times, is to keep some semblance of organization in my home. This, for any mother, but especially for me and my artsy/ADD brain, is very very difficult. But, I have to say, I love the process of getting things in order and I did some of it yesterday, to Tom's chagrin (he prefers I just stick to the menial tasks of cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc.). I am very perfectionistic, so actually sorting through things and getting them in their place is an artform for me, and gives me the illusion of accomplishment, which, in and of itself is thrilling. Currently, I am tackling a closet in our kitchen, which, in the last year, has functioned as a TV/entertainment center, clothing receptacle for Tom, and a toy depository. Now, I am hoping, that I've found its permanent use as art pantry, and spent many hours yesterday, putting together a paper sorting bin (see photo- yes, I am a nut), and about 15 rubbermaid containers of supplies. As I am an amateur artist who is nurturing amateur artists, this is a very important corner of our home. (of course, my ADD did interfere, and I moved on to straightening the drawers in the kitchen island, as well as my baking cupboards (see muffin pan photo), and finished nothing!!!) ha ha ha

Is this a process or a goal I can finish? We shall see.

I took this picture of Lily, outside our house, as she walked her baby brother Seth around the cul-de-sac in the sling. Life seems to have almost come full circle, as it was nearly ten years ago that I was walking Lily around in a sling. She is an incredible daughter and big sister, so nurturing and loving. We are so lucky to be her parents. SO LUCKY

thanks to my parents arrival and generosity, tom & I got to go on a date for the first time since seth's birth.
Lily got me all made up with new blush, mascara, and eyeshadow, which I hardly ever wear!

we went to Nakama (Japanese), where we love to dine every once in a while. they'd sent us a coupon for our anniversary so the bill wasn't nearly as pricey as normal. I had the most fabulous drinks- a keylime martini and a chocolate banana martini. I was in heaven. The food was divine, as always, from the miso soup to the salad (i had two of those) to the grilled veggies and meat.

Tom and I were both stuffed to the gills when we left. Then we came home, hung out with Granny and Liam for a while (listening to Liam's non-stop diatribe about his bionicle creature- how romantic), then sent them all to bed so we could download and watch the fourth episode of The Shield (latest season). Perfect way to end the night- I got to sleep next to my husband in bed for a change, for at least a few hours, before Benjamin came like a zombie and plopped himself in between us.

The beginning lyrics of that James Blunt song (from the playlist in the sidebar) are perfect- except when he starts talking about some girl on the subway- I haven't gotten on a subway in a long time and I certainly wasn't falling for a girl, when I did. But, nevertheless, my life is brilliant, my love is pure just about fits the bill right now.

It is Saturday morning and life is good. My kids may not agree, as they are being directed, at this moment, to begin cleaning to get the house ready for their grandparents' visit later today. I got to sleep in this morning, all by myself (Tom took Seth from me at about 7:30). Seth slept twelve hours last night and that is a coup for any Sombar child, believe me. I love weekends- even when we are doing less than exciting things like scrubbing toilets- because we are together. We're all looking forward to spending some time with Granny and Paul and Tom is chomping at the bit to go on our date, which we have scheduled for tonight at 7:30. My friend Jen Lemen always says that the Sombars have "togetheritis." Its true and I'm so glad.

I haven't done this in a while, so I figured I'd take some time to reflect on what I'm thankful for, right this minute:

*Jordan Tetlow who has 3 of my 4 kids playing in her yard right now. I so enjoy watching our kids form friendships of their own
*Bonnie Dougherty for our meal exchange- another great way to live in community with one another- and the food is yummy!
*Stacy Walls for all the times she's been a surrogate mom to Liam since June. You are very appreciated by both of us. And you are a great woman to be friends with. I love laughing with you.
*My parents for coming to visit tomorrow. Can't wait to spend time with you.
*Donna DiNardo for helping to search for Ben yesterday, even though he wasn't lost (don't blame me for the gray hair- its all from my third child)(love that mushroom manure, by the way).
*Frank Tetlow for driving through Mission Hills, s-l-o-w-l-y, looking for Ben, and making yourself look like a creepy guy as a result. :)
*the swing that is rocking my precious Seth into a sweet, late afternoon nap
*Lily for her constant joy in greeting me after school (she still runs like I'm some great celebrity or something)
*Liam for cuddling with me this morning- so warm. (okay- well, he also was cuddling a clothespin he found on the playground yesterday, too...but I'll take what I can get)
*Benjamin for embracing life with such vigor and for sitting with me and reading I Spy Treasure for a REALLY LONG TIME. You keep me on my toes, and sometimes my toes are really exhausted, but I love you just the same.
*Tom for being himself which is much nicer than I deserve most days. Thanks for not caring that the house is a pigsty and your wife gets a little cranky (just a little), when you are late.

My heart stopped this evening after I put Seth down and realized I hadn't seen or heard Benjamin in a while. Tom had gotten home late from work and thus wasn't around to keep a watchful eye on things when I went upstairs with the baby. At first we both just figured he was in the backyard or driveway, where he can often be found before dinnertime. I called to him for a good couple of minutes, in my loud "get the heck in here" mommy voice. No answer. Then the angry parent feelings set in and i stomped through the house and outside, ready to hurl him through the wall once I found him- so sure that he had disobeyed the cardinal rule of never leaving our property without asking. No answer. Then the panicked parent feelings washed over me like an ocean and I began pacing the cul-de-sac, now sure that he'd been abducted by the predator we received warning about by letter from the school today (man in his 30's attempting to lure 6th grader to his vehicle, with candy, in our neighborhood yesterday- ugh). Immediately it was Tom and I, as well as Donna and Georgina on the hunt for Ben- Donna attempting to reassure me that he was certainly going to be found. Suddenly I had this feeling that I should go back to the house and check again and sure enough, there he lay, fast asleep, in the la-z-boy in our basement, only the top of his head visible from the doorway. Whew. I was relieved but sickened. I think my heart is still racing, even now- almost three hours after the initial search began.

I took a drive tonight and pondered the horror of having your child go missing and what a devastating toll it must take on a family- not to know....a very dear friend of mine- a wise woman and sage of sorts- lost her daughter, who was abducted and murdered at age nine, her body located thirteen years later. I marvel, when I see her once a week, that she still stands and still believes in a God that is full of love and mercy for his people.

May I never live to know that kind of pain. Never.

To read more about Sarah Pryor and her wonderful mother, who has blessed me with her kind spirit, click on the following link:
http://www.sara.org/modules.php?name=Sarah


The Beautiful Barbara Pryor- My "adoptive mother-in-law" and terrific friend.

I had the privilege to read to Ben's pre-K class this afternoon. Ben and I couldn't agree on one book to choose so I brought in two. The one I picked was Hunting The White Cow by Tres Symour




I love this book, not only because the story is great, but because it allows me to use accents and silly noises, which really keep the kids entertained. Its so fun to hear them laugh and feel good when I'm reading.

One of the best parts about being a mother, for me, is that I get to live out my dreams as a drama queen, by telling fabulous, far-fetched stories. What a fun life I have!

I have spent a lifetime feeling very passionate about adopting children, especially those from other ethnic backgrounds than my own. For those who are not "called" in this direction, it can be very hard to understand those of us who pursue these dreams, which are often maddening. As a mother of four children, all of whom are from my own body, I know that it seems nuts to still think of growing our family any bigger. Motherhood is stressful. Each day presents challenges to me, that sometimes seem insurmountable. I feel adoption at my very core, though, so I will continue to think of it as a mission, whether it be sooner or later in life.

Last night I got together with three other women who share my dreams, two of whom have already seen theirs come to fruition, with the adoption of multi-racial babies. I so enjoyed sharing with them all that I have garnered in the last year or two from my own adoption research, and learned so much, in return, from their experiences.

I've added a listing to the sidebar on this blog, which includes many of the websites on waiting children, some that I visit on a regular basis.

If you are inclined to serve the world in this way, please know that there are children of all ages, including newborns, who are in need of families RIGHT NOW.

Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ
Then why do you look so much like the world?

Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?

Blessed are the poor in spirit
Or do we pray to be blessed with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand

Cause my Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the rich
So which one do you want to be?

Who is this that you follow
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side or fall down and worship at His holy feet

Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part
Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him

Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and the least of these
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable
So which one do you want to be?

Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud

I want to be like my Jesus!
I want to be like my Jesus!

Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus
You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus but I'm not sure what that means to be like You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You, love like You but then You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?
I want to be like my Jesus

I heard this song today while lurking on one of my favorite blogs (the beaver family)(see my sidebar). It struck a real chord with me because it is something that I struggle with greatly, these days: how would the REAL Jesus have us worship? In a big fancy church, worth millions of dollars, with soft comfy pews, in our "Sunday best", sitting next to folks that look just like we do- pretty and clean. That's where we might feel most like praising God but I have a feeling that it wasn't what the Lord had in mind- this Western Christianity. I have a feeling that Jesus shines most in areas that we find repulsive, with people who aren't as acceptable to behold. I think the "mega-church Jesus" is one that we've created out of our own greed for more more more. I've heard very good preachers give lively sermons on who they think Jesus weeps for in our modern world- the gays, the ghetto dwellers, the illegitimate children...but I think he feels sad over those of us who have it all and go to bed with such discontent that we can't sleep; for those of us who feel weary from running our kids to the latest and greatest activities, when all they need is time with us; for those of us who have closets full of clothes yet nothing to wear. My Jesus weeps for me and I need to try to figure this one out.

This morning, for story time, Ben chose three Eric Carle books for me to read to him. As I went to sit next to him in one of our leather chairs, he says "Mommy, you have a big butt. Why you have a big butt, Mommy?" I decided that a nice version of the truth would be most appropriate, so I kindly explained "because mommy just had a baby." (okay- we all know that I pretty much had a big butt before Seth was conceived but that is currently beside the point.) Anyway, Benjamin quickly retorted "Molly's mom doesn't have a big butt, Mommy." I took a very deep breath and replied that Molly's mom hasn't had a baby in over eight years so she doesn't count (Molly's mom is upwards of six feet and most likely has a metabolism faster than most Ethiopian runners- this is what I tell myself, anyway). In years past, this sort of painful conversation would have launched me into semi-suicidal thoughts, or at least an immediate plan to run to my nearest Jenny Craig. Now, though, I have chosen to embrace my whole body, even my big butt (and big belly) with a measure of acceptance. I like big butts, especially my own.

I had a horrible afternoon today- I think the devil has invaded my body in the form of PMS (which, I would like to add, is a very mean trick given that I breastfeed Seth at least 100 times a day and am already maxed in the emotional turmoil department). Anyway, on my way from Ben's preschool to pick up Lily and Liam, Sharon Lehr reminded me that I'd promised to take her daughter Kate, and Lily to the movies tonight (a belated gift for Kate's 10th birthday, which, at the time, seemed so unique and wonderful....ehem....stupid me). Right then and there, I wanted to run far away- perhaps to a monastery, where I know peace is a sure thing. So, after a very arduous time of putting Seth to bed, I begrudgingly hauled Lily and Kate to see the Catherine Zeta-Jones hit "No Reservations." Absorbed in my own woeful mood, I failed to feel the warm fuzzies of being with two young girls in a theater, which we had all to ourselves. In my head (and tummy), I kept obsessing about how good a tuna sandwich would taste from the Panera Bread, right next door. Then my thoughts wandered in and out of how I was possibly going to be raising four children for the rest of my life, or at least another 18 or so years, without ending up in a psychotic fugue. At the end of the show we rushed to the van (I rushed to the van- they followed), and low and behold, I had a mood swing- this time in the upwards direction (luckily for Kate and Lily). I threw in a mix CD that I'd made and Lily and I belted out "Walking In Memphis" by Marc Cohn (Lily being the only 9 year old who thinks that's a cool song). I felt immediately released from the doom of estrogen and even circled our neighborhood a couple of times so we could sing it again. What a way to end the night- with no reservations....

Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain
W.C. Handy -- won't you look down over me
Yeah I got a first class ticket
But I'm as blue as a boy can be

Then I'm walking in Memphis
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way I feel

Saw the ghost of Elvis
On Union Avenue
Followed him up to the gates of Graceland
Then I watched him walk right through
Now security they did not see him
They just hovered 'round his tomb
But there's a pretty little thing
Waiting for the King
Down in the Jungle Room

(Chorus)

They've got catfish on the table
They've got gospel in the air
And Reverend Green be glad to see you
When you haven't got a prayer
But boy you've got a prayer in Memphis

Now Muriel plays piano
Every Friday at the Hollywood
And they brought me down to see her
And they asked me if I would --
Do a little number
And I sang with all my might
And she said --
"Tell me are you a Christian child?"
And I said "Ma'am I am tonight"

(Chorus)

Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain

Mr. Rogers would be so proud- we LOVE our neighbors, and for the third year in a row, we got to spend an evening with them, eating, drinking and being merry, at the annual Mission Drive block party. Two years ago, at the end of August, Tom and I signed the contract to buy the house we are now living in, and the owners thoughtfully invited us up a few weeks later, to attend our first neighborhood get-together. That night was one for the history books, for sure, as we discovered, with pure joy, what a wonderful community we were getting ready to join, and those feelings have only grown stronger since we've moved in. The festivities generally center around our home, with the food and drink tables set up in our driveway. At 4:30 people slowly trickle down, with a potluck assortment of side dishes and desserts, as well as wine or beer. This year we had everyone on our cul-de-sac in attendance, with the exception of The Stouts, and Bob & Sherry. We enjoyed meeting our new neighbors, Haley and Dan, whose house is located on Jefferson but backs to our property.


Our new neighbor Dan Gbur and his son Carl



They have two children (Eva and Carl), ages 6 and 3 and are looking forward to getting more acquainted with play dates and perhaps even getting rid of the chain-link fence, separating our yards.

Lynn McCabe cuddling with Seth


Jordan Tetlow and Frannie



Seth, our newest addition, and Frannie Tetlow, 11 months old, made their official debut, while their parents imbibed along with the rest of the adults in attendance.


Georgina DiNardo heads up the line of bubble wrap walkers (followed by Liam, Maddie Tetlow, Lily, Caroline McCabe and Molly Merrick).

Lily prepares to attempt the bubble walk as Eva Gbur looks on

Liam trying hard not to break any bubbles

The kids had a rip-roaring time playing the traditional games of walking the bubble-wrap, water toss, and spider.


Amy Wells directs the kids at the water toss game

Parents and their offspring participated along side one another in both the "BigFoot" race (Frank Tetlow and I teamed up for this and lost to Tom & Ben- in a humiliating finish, I might add- Frank's fault, of course) and the water balloon toss.



Tom and Lily, Caroline McCabe and her Dad Mike, Liam & Maddie Tetlow vs. her Dad Frank and brother Egan



Suzie Merrick decided that we'd better quit the illegal island bonfires of years past and purchased a fire pit yesterday morning. As the air was unseasonably chilly, we were all feeling cozy around the flames, with s'mores but no cumbayah (maybe next year).

Suzie Merrick's bonfire contribution



As the folks on Hazel Drive, just up the street, were also partying, we commiserated, with much bitterness, on how we could top their live band and fireworks, for next year. Frank, Tom, and I decided that a semi-annual hoo-ha, held amidst the winter blahs in January or February, should be in the works. We'll get right on that. All in all, our block party was certainly a success, and I'm left, again, with warm and fuzzy feelings for my fellow Mission Drivers. :)

That it has been 10 years since Peach and I took our vows on Dewey Beach is almost incomprehensible. In some ways it seems like I could just reach back and touch those moments in the sand- but in other ways, its as if it has been a lifetime. We've grown so much in the last decade- becoming parents, four times over, buying three homes, including the one we're currently living in. Of course, as in life, all has not always been easy. We've persevered through our own share of difficulties, sometimes wondering how life had gotten so hard, but always, in the end, finding ourselves loving one another better.

Tom is one of the most intelligent people I know. He is also one of the most thoughtful, giving, and patient spirits, and I am truly honored that he chose ME as his companion for life.

I could never imagine the joy that being married to this man has brought me and I never, ever want to know a life without him.

Here's to ten more years and beyond.

Fall has finally hit Pittsburgh and my mood has improved 1000%- something about sweat rolling down the back of my neck and my hair sticking to me like glue makes me grumpy. I woke up this morning to a cool breeze blowing through the house, the kids demanding long pants and jackets, and a hopefulness that I can't quite describe- I don't know- something about autumn signals new beginnings for me- a chance to make it better. Perhaps because my public school brain became programmed, over the years, to expect change at the beginning of September. Either way, this weather makes me just want to run through meadows and twirl. Just short of that silliness, I will at least be the owner of better smelling armpits and won't have to drive around aimlessly, polluting the earth with wasteful emissions, in order to surround myself with air conditioning. HERE'S TO BETTER DAYS AHEAD, AND EVEN SOME FROLICKING ABOUT.

I woke up this morning, as I usually do, feeling groggy and tired, longing for just another hour to lay peacefully in slumber, before my duties as the mother of four required my full attention. I nursed, changed, sang to, and put Seth down for an early nap, helped the kids with breakfast, struggled with Benjamin to get on his shoes, finished making Lily and Liam's lunches then kissed them out the door to school, helped Ben write on his blog, took Ben to Trevor's house- in a flash flood- for a playdate, nursed seth, went to Washington Elementary for a meeting with the principal about Liam's teacher, nursed and put Seth down for another nap, made dinner for our family and put it in the crockpot to simmer, made an extra dinner to give to Lila, responded to my emails, cleaned up the kitchen, folded laundry, sang to, nursed and played with Seth, heated and ate lunch, nursed and put Seth down for his afternoon nap, got him up again, nursed, drove to pick-up the kids from their respective schools. While in front of Washington Elementary, I noticed the flag was flying at half-staff and questioned a friend as to why. I'd forgotten that it was September 11th. And at that moment I saw the worst nightmares of many of the loved ones of those whose lives were lost 6 years ago, coming to fruition: we are not as affected by the terror of that day- we are starting to not remember. The sting isn't as piercing and the fears we felt, for what seemed to be a long time after the fact, have subsided. In that, there is a certain sadness within me, an empathy for the heartache of those who still mourn- who still feel that loss- everyday.

Lily, Benjamin, and I, talked on the way home from our playdate, about the tragedy of 9/11- not in a morbid way, with details too grim for my childrens' ears, but in terms of honoring the memory of The Twin Towers, and the people left inside them when they fell, and how scary that day was for me, with Tom, their Dad, leaving on a business trip- completely out of contact with us for many hours after the attacks. Lily was three then, and while her life has changed so remarkably with age, she recalls my tears, my angst that morning. As a lover of New York City, she gets the loss-the void left by the absence of the those buildings, so remarkable in their architecture- so breathtaking in the skyline.

We drove past the fire department here in Mt. Lebanon and paused to notice the makeshift memorial they had put up in front of the building. And later, tonight, alone, I walked by there in the dark and took these pictures.




Life goes on- and I am so thankful for that. But I never want to forget how life became so sacred to me that day- how I knew instantly, what was truly important to me and felt the desperation of having to grasp it- the love I have for my husband- in all those hours he was stuck on the D.C. subway, unable to call home, or leave the city, I could think of nothing more than needing to be with him.

For the past three months, since Seth was born, we've been a little concerned that Benjamin was not faring so well, having the "baby of the family" role taken away from him. Bedtime has been especially challenging, with Ben punching and kicking his way out of bed and screaming through the house, terrorizing his siblings (and us) sometimes for hours. Tom and I have both thought the situation was hopeless and just wanted to bury ourselves in some sort of hole, fearing we'd made a horrendous error in judgement by growing our family beyond three. My heart was lifted this morning, however, when Ben, while ushering his friends Trevor and Mikey into the house, said "do not scream guys because my baby is sleeping!" At that moment I knew that no permanent damage had been done by adding a fourth child to our wonderful family- and how beautiful it is to see Ben, my rough-around-the-edges boy, accept Seth into his life in such a loving way.

We Love You Auntie Wendy



The Moore's took off at about 10:30 this morning, after a long goodbye. Wendy and I enjoyed a lot of girl time, chatting away in the living room, reading books, and taking quizzes on the Internet. Lily, Liam, Benjamin, Abigail, and "E" spent the hours making "stain remover potions" (as first inspired by our visit last month with Emily and Fiona Turner-Leathem), swinging on the play set, watching TV, and, at times, quarreling. I hold them all as part of our family and am so grateful to be "Auntie Judy." With much trepidation, we bid them farewell, with promises to see them in December. We loved having them around this weekend and are so thankful that they are a part of our lives.

I was stirred awake by Seth's cries of hunger at about 2:30 this morning. I took him out of his "bed" and brought him to sleep with me. As I lay there nursing him, I began to rub the inside of his tiny thumb and thought to myself how yummy it is to hold and appreciate every inch of my new son, and to marvel at how perfect he is- and how much I love all of him. What a miracle life is and how blessed we are to be given a chance to grow with these children.

While waiting for Auntie Wendy, Abigail and Elizabeth to arrive yesterday, Lily and I set my laptop on the built-in shelf unit in the living room and programed it to play the songs I've stored in it. Seth, Lily, and I were sitting on the couch when Jamie Foxx's impersonation of Ray Charles began to play. As I looked over at Seth, who'd been rather grumpy, I noticed he was suddenly smiling, cooing, and stomping his foot. He continued this animated state throughout Kanye West's "Gold Digger." I've decided that this is good foreshadowing for the future- Seth being a hip-hop fan, and perhaps, a reincarnated version of Mr. Ray Charles himself. Brutha's got soul.

One of my best friends, Wendy Moore, finally drove up to see me, and our new abode. I've been looking forward to her visit for such a long time. We met one another at a playgroup when our daughters, now 10 and 9, were just 3 and 2 years old. Hanging out with her tonight, enjoying a good meal, margaritas (courtesy of the King O' Ritas- tom) and great conversation, was such a priceless time for me. I love her immensely. These are photos of our kids (and Tom) in various states of sleep (or not). These are the days we will never forget.

Tonight at about 9:45, Liam had a meltdown- his first in a VERY LONG TIME. His poor soul could no longer cope with the rigors of keeping up with his brother and dear friends Abigail and Elizabeth, and he just hurled himself onto the blow-up mattress, banging his head and kicking, much like he used to in the early years. Those outbursts used to drive me crazy, making me believe that my son was surely on his way to becoming a serial killer or something equally as horrifying and socially unacceptable. But this evening, I laid down next to him, cradling him close to me, and I thought of how many times, in the last few months since Seth's birth, that I have felt such similar emotions- throwing my spirit into a tirade larger than my physical self could handle- not knowing how to recover and start over. Exhaustion is so very hard to cope with and it got the best of Budge- as it does for me. Finally, after a good half-hour of relentless tantrums, he settled in bed with me and asked me to read him two books: Johnny Appleseed and The Bears, and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I relished every second of my time with him, soaking up all of the wonderful feelings of having my first baby boy in my arms, all to myself, even for that short stint. I don't get to do much holding these days, with all the nursing of Seth, directing Benjamin, and general household duties. I miss Liam and love him so much. We have this wonderful thing that we do: I say "I love you more than you love me..." and he says "that's not possible!" and I respond "KimPossible!" and then we switch it around the other way, with him going first. Tonight I changed it some- as I cuddled his weary being- I whispered "I love you more than you'll ever believe- EVER."

I played dodgeball with Benjamin this afternoon- fulfilling a promise i'd made to "play whatever" he wanted after getting Seth down for a nap. Amidst sweating profusely and looking like the idiot of time, I was joyful, if not elated, to be out in the sunshine, running from a blown-up globe that doubles as a ball. (I also felt like a good mommy for a while....) I did, however, have to expend an enormous amount of effort to hold at bay my OCD tendencies, which made me want to pause the game, every 10 seconds, and pull the weeds on our hill, pick-up the trash, and basically stop having fun and get back to boring adulthood. Soaking up the joy of motherhood is not as easy as I want it to be. I fight with myself for permission to be a kid with my kids- fighting off the childhood goal of JUST HAVING FUN.