Benjamin and "E" (Elizabeth) twirling around the room to some oldies they were playing at Auntie Wendy's house.

Liam braved Disney World in March, succombing only one day to the intense pain of what we discovered upon our return, was a severe double ear infection.

Seth- April 2009

http://media.www.collegian.com/media/storage/paper864/news/2009/04/08/News/Ingersoll.Resident.Found.Dead.By.Suicide-3701457.shtml

We attended a reception this afternoon to honor the baptism of our newest neighbor, Christopher. Seven months ago, our neighbors' daughter gave birth to this sweet soul, though just a mere adolescent herself. I imagine this was, at first, not such joyous news for her parents, having just ushered her off to college- her freshman year of what was to be an ambitious college career.

We found out about the birth a few months after it occured and I remember sending my neighbor a letter of support, stating very simply, at one point, that of all the calls to receive from your teenager, pregnancy is so much more hopeful than others.

The link to the newspaper clipping at the top of this post is a suicide notice from the campus of Colorado State University, and the anonymous victim mentioned in the article was my cousin Travis.

May all of our disappointments involving our children be put into perspective.

I made my official gee-tar debut today, at the nursery school where I read, playing a rousing rendition (not really) of "Old MacDonald Had A Farm", before reading one of my ALL-TIME favorite books "Hunting The White Cow" by Tres Seymore. The performances were the highlight of my day, by far, as I'm struggling to maintain my cool in the midst of some major life stress. Thank God for kids.

As I walked along the main drag of our town this morning, Sethy in the jogger, Ben peddaling like wild-fire on his bike, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my community- this place I have grown roots in for over three years now. It is a far cry from the urban life I lived in the D.C. area but it is what I would term the "perfect balance" of city and suburbia- a walking community where our family can access nearly everything on foot (a good grocery store would be the exception), with top-knotch public schools, playgrounds, and backyards. What it lacks in diversity (and boy, is it lacking), it makes up for in a close-knit population of citizens who care for and bother to get to know one another. Theresa manages the bank where I trapse in and out of, shares with me her favorite books, kid stories, and wants to have drinks. Bridgett talks to my kids when we breeze through the coffee shop for breakfast muffins and lemonade and complements my latest thrift store finds. Mrs. Dinardo holds Seth and marvels at how he's grown, while the rest of the Sombar brood pilfers treats from her small but sensational candy store.

My husband has been urging me to entertain his latest radical ideas of child rearing, which involve a rather non-traditional approach to living and mobilizing (I will divulge no more as I am not currently feeling this idea with any sort of gusto, much to his chagrin). Our relationship has always involved a strong leaning toward wanderlust and impulsive roadtrips, but I've changed a great deal since moving here, and have become very attached to the idea that I am in the place where I belong- the very thought of leaving all this behind makes me sick to my stomach and brings on a level of anxiety unmatched by anything to date.

Thankyou to my friends and neighbors here, in the SouthHills of Pittsburgh, who embrace me with your kindness, support, smiles, and "hea-theres" everyday. The big cities and metro regions can keep their transient populations and lack of eye-contact. I am home. And it feels amazing.

As we near the end of the school year, I've been overwhelmed with the task of gathering photos of Lily for her upcoming fifth grade recognition celebration she will move on to middle school next year). Nearly swallowed whole by boxes and boxes of prints, I sat in my livingroom filled with nostalgia, seeing images of the last eleven years before me. In addition to feeling like I could have seventeen more babies, just gazing at the beautiful faces of my children, I also feel joy that they have, thus far, lived such a rich life in our midst. For all of the hours that I spend wallowing in worry that Tom and I are not perfect parents, there is no denying the wealth of experiences our four have received from being cared for in our arms. And I don't regret a single minute that we've spent treading the paths we've chosen- they have all been filled with our best intentions and a depth of love that is indescribable with words. Enjoy glimpsing into this short but lovely timeline of my amazing daughter's first eleven years. She is an incredible soul.

I'm not sure that the rest of my brood would echo these thoughts, but I had a wonderful day- slept in a little due to a middle of the night waking after being prodded by my one year-old for an hour (I did some laundry, contemplated nonsensical things then returned to my crowded bed), then was dragged kicking and screaming to the front yard by my eager "get-er'-done" husband. He and I had discussed and agreed to an outside work-day last night, which we desperately needed, but was a lot more labor intensive then I had anticipated (silly me). I tend to romanticize my intimacy with mother-earth, then have an awakening that I moan and groan about once I'm told that I must clean sidewalks before I plant the flower beds. Hmph.

Well, luckily Tom has a much greater attention span than do I- we managed to have the front of our home looking much tidier by noon, at which point I jaunted over to the local nursery, narrowly escaping the trappings of all of the beautiful plants calling to me at every turn. My gardening urges are fierce but my budget is small, so I bought two gorgeous orange blanket flowers and three lambs ears and ran to the car, feeling the threat of divorce or death should I arrive home with even a seedling more (Tom, reading this post over my shoulder, just howled and reminded me that tonight, at the grocery store, I snuck two seed packets into the cart...) He is such a tortured soul.

After my darling husband rolled his eyes, Benjamin and I got to work and spent several hours planting today's treasures as well as some bulbs we'd purchased together the day before. Unable to resist my rampant OCD, I then weeded the hill in the backyard, feverishly, for an hour before my back began screaming in pain and I decided it wise to rest for the evening.

If neglecting my children were more p.c., I'd be covered in dirt from head to toe, frolicking amongst the hostas and my black-eyed-Susan buds all day and night. I am truly insane- but I love it.

Hooray for spring in Pittsburgh.