The Y Chromosome

We are some of those people who never find out if it is a boy or a girl before birth. We like the surprise. When I was pregnant with Evan, however, I knew instinctively that he was a boy. I don't know if I "knew" because I really knew or if I "knew" because I so desperately needed him to be a boy (and therefore have the whole pregnancy so completely different from my pregnancy with Sophie that nothing could go wrong). Whichever it was, I knew he was a boy before he was born. We have had almost two and a half glorious years of watching our wonderful little man learn and grow...and now the Y chromosome seems to be kicking in. Here was our day yesterday--and the first is just a story because I didn't have a camera.

Yesterday I was doing laundry at the house we just bought (our washing machine is dead and the tenants haven't moved in there yet, so it works well). The kids were playing in the back yard, really enjoying finding their little secret spots. Megan yells, "Mom...Evan is climbing a tree!" I didn't really think much of it as he has never gotten very high. Then Erin yells, "Mom...I think he needs help getting down." As I began to walk down the hill, Erin yells, "MOM! Evan needs help!" I ran down there to find my toddler about 20 feet up in the air, sitting on a branch, hugging the trunk and looking very pleased with himself. I tried to climb up to him, but the branches of this tree were only about a 1-2 inch diameter and couldn't hold me. Calmly, I asked him to stay where he was and asked Erin to run next door to our good friend's house and see if she could come over with a ladder and her phone (in case I needed to call 911). She comes back with a ladder and as we put the ladder up against the tree (challenging with all the branches) Evan begins to climb higher! He was saying, "NO! I no want to come down! No! No! No!" At this point, I'm getting nervous. Laura begins to climb the ladder (she's much taller than me so has a better reach) and is talking to Evan. "Hey Evan! Can you put your foot on this branch?" Eager to show off his skills, Evan says, "Of course!" and does it. Good job, Laura! So, long story short, Laura gets him down and now we know which trees need their lower branches trimmed so only older kids can get up them.

You would think we were done for the day, but you'd be wrong. Here is what happens when a toddler climbs into an idling car as your husband is fixing the exhaust system:






Chris and I were there in about a millisecond, and as I pulled my completely unharmed toddler out of the car he was a bit shaky as he said (with almost disbelief in his voice), "Mama...I crashed the car!" Um...yeah, Little Man, you did.

Evan fell asleep very early last night, apparently exhausted from his day. As I watched him snooze in his fire engine bed, no doubt dreaming about tomorrow's adventures, I was simply thankful he still had all his limbs.

*Before you all go calling DHHS, know that everyone is totally fine and safe and I've talked to other moms of boys and not one is surprised at all by these antics. Today, Evan will be on a leash!

This summer...

I almost dialed her phone number the other day. I don't know why. Obviously her answering machine isn't there anymore, but I just wanted to pretend to hear her voice. It has been nearly 6 months since Amy passed, and for six months, I haven't called her, gotten an email from her, met her for lunch, had her babysit, or just gone down there to hang out. And I simply can't believe what a change it is for me, for our family. I mean, it isn't like I saw her so often that it is a huge shift in my daily life, but yet her presence is just missing. Gone. It is so hard to describe that shift.

I've had some tough moments where I just want to cry and scream at the universe--moments where I have sat down at the keyboard with tears in my eyes and written out a long and very blabbery email to another friend from college. There are moments, I tell her, when I just can't believe how utterly alone I feel without Amy. I mean, I am surrounded by family and good friends, but without being able to call her, without being able to just hear her voice, the voice that has been there without fail for nearly 20 years...well, it is a challenge. And this other friend always writes back full of empathy and with all the caring of someone who knew from the beginning that my relationship with Amy was special...and yet, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, she or anyone else can do.

So while I haven't been much of a blogger lately, because we have been buying a house, dealing with the first trimester-yuckies, having summer fun and basically being really busy, this is what has been on my mind. How much I can still hear her voice in my head, how much I would give to go sit in her apartment again, how much I want to do another day in Boston with her, how much I just want to call her up and hear her say, "Hey!" the way she always did. Summer of 2011...my first summer without Amy. I miss her.