On Thursday evening, Josh bought the ChickieNob her first cherry chapstick.  She had been coveting one for a while and he was at the grocery store, so he picked one up to surprise her.  Needless to say, she instantly fell in love with her lip balm.  So much so that when I took her brother to his guitar lesson, she brought it along just to hold it in her hand because she didn’t want to leave it back in the house.

And then she visited the school of chapstick hardknocks.

She did what ever single person has done at some point in her life, that quintessential moment of childhood when you absentmindedly (or in some cases purposefully) twist the bottom gear until the chapstick is up as high as it will go.  For a few moments, she marveled at the red brick of waxy lip balm.  And then she was taught the lesson every child learns the hard way: that twisting the gear to its limit brings about instant chapstick death.

At dinner, Josh had been telling me about a David Grossman book, To the End of the Land, where a mother drops off her child at base camp for army service.  Terrified that in allowing her son to be in the army she is literally offering him up for sacrifice, and fearing that she will one day receive the dreaded knock on the door by the army telling her that he is dead, she leaves her house so she can never receive that knock.  She spends the book walking through Israel, engaged in a game of magical thinking.  If she never receives the message, the death can’t occur.

That’s what I was thinking about as I watched the ChickieNob fall apart only a few hours after that dinner conversation, feeling for the first time that deep weight of regret; that wish that you could have made a different choice, that you could rewind time and change one small decision so the future won’t happen.  Right now, it’s a chapstick, and one day it will be something slightly bigger and then slightly bigger and finally bigger still, and with each moment that we’re emotionally forced to drink from that well of regret, we choke on the knowledge that there was something small we could have done.  The ChickieNob could have left the chapstick on her side table and it would still be whole.  The mother in the book could have kept driving past base camp, moved from the country, kept her son safe.

Of course, we never know these things in the moment.  We only know them in retrospect.  Which is why retrospect is such a bitch.  Sometimes it seems cruel that our brains retain the memory of how we got to the place where we’re at.  That it’s our tendency as humans to walk ourselves backwards through each moment to consider all the tiny twists and turns.  By which I mean the twist of a road.  The turn of a chapstick.

After tuck in, the ChickieNob went into the bathroom to cry by herself, and Josh made me get her out and tell her the story I’m about to tell you.  So we sat in her rocking chair and I explained that my father once bought me a cherry chapstick, and I loved it because I thought it made my lips look red.  I wanted to be like Snow White or Alice in Wonderland and have pale skin and red lips so badly.  And while I couldn’t quite get the pale skin, the chapstick at least gave me the red lips.  I used it for a while, making the sharp edges become rounded until the top was a perfect dome.  And then I twisted the knob at the bottom just to see what would happen.  And of course it broke.  And I cried, hard, because when you’re a child, you never know when you’ll get another tube of chapstick, which is something adults forget.  We become so accustomed to knowing that we can pick up a new chapstick the next time we’re at the store that we forget how much children are dependent on us, how difficult it is not to know when you’ll get a new pack of gum or a fresh chapstick.

The ChickieNob took another few minutes to cry, and there was a part of me that hoped as I held her that this moment somehow acted as a vaccine against all the stupid decisions she’ll make in the future which will lead to regrets.  That somehow drinking from a deep well of regret over a broken chapstick will keep her from stepping on other small rocks in her path that will lead to future remorse.  That she’ll always use a condom.  She’ll never get in a car with someone drunk.  She’ll be late one day and miss a terrible accident; she’ll be early one day and meet the person she’s supposed to meet.

Afterwards, I explained how a chapstick and a deodorant container and a twistpop work, how the twisting mechanism — which is very similar to the gears she uses in Lego robots — is connected to a rod, which raises a platform, and how this method of propel-repel is actually one of the greatest inventions of all time.  In fact, it would make the perfect science fair project, since it would not only be fascinating to take apart the chapstick container and the deodorant stick and the twistpop and see the parts inside, but it might actually save her fellow students from the heartache she is feeling now.  She stopped crying and considered this.  She agreed that she would take the chapstick apart.  So I agreed to go to the store and buy her a new one.  Since she had obviously learned the lesson.

She went to bed with her heart a little less broken.  Almost as if I allowed time to rewind by agreeing to get her a new cherry chapstick.  Which maybe erases the most important lesson there was in all of this: that we usually can’t go back and change the present so it looks the way we want it to look.  That most moments in life are not as fixable and inexpensive as purchasing a new container of chapstick.  The man in the car crash can’t go back and switch lanes.  The woman who is raped can’t decide not to enter the house.  People who die can’t be revived.   And most of the time, we can’t know which one of our decisions is leading to that possible outcome until after the event occurs, after we mentally retrace all our steps.  And even if she’s cognizant of that lesson and retains it, there is very little we can do to temper the feelings that come with retrospect.

So I let that lesson go, in exchange for a science fair project and a new chapstick so she could go to sleep with a lighter heart.

Last year was our first experience with school lunches in the twenty years since Josh and I left high school.  I have to admit, I pretty much never bought a school lunch as a child because I was (1) a vegetarian, (2) picky, and (3) had enormous food phobias.  Plus, once I was allowed to not each lunch in the lunch room, I never ate lunch in the lunch room again.  I mean, I literally didn’t step foot in the cafeteria for social reasons throughout most of middle school and high school.  My friends and I ate lunch in the hallway or outside.  Or more accurately — I ate my lunch throughout the morning in small bites sneaked during class so there was pretty much nothing left when it was actually lunch time.

So it was pretty much with a lot of preconceived notions and a touch of horror with which I allowed the twins to purchase lunch for the first time.  Since that time, they both have purchased lunch a handful of times.  It happens about once or twice a month, and it is only when there is pizza or grilled cheese.  Actually, as of late, only the Wolvog buys and only when it is grilled cheese because pizza made by anyone other than me and one restaurant have been bumped off his list of six foods he eats.  As far as I can tell, the ChickieNob spends lunch time mostly daydreaming or mentally recording everything around her which leaves very little time to eat.  That child will write fantastic tomes one day, thick books with characters invented from various parts of all her classmates from these days when she seems to exist solely on air, noticing and remembering every small detail around her.

Once upon a time, I had this vision of myself joining them for lunch in the cafeteria, perhaps on pizza day, after I finished my volunteer work at the school.  That vision fizzled from my mind once I stepped foot again in a lunch room after being absent for more than twenty years.  When I have to swing through for whatever reason, I stand by their long table internally retching, trying to avert my eyes from the macaroni and cheese (cheese still being one of my food phobias) and mouth breathe.  School lunches look awfully one-colour, and that one colour is sort of a reddish brown.  It’s sort of a tannish brown.  It’s brown.

The USDA announced this week their new standards, and I got to sit in on a phone call with Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack and television chef Rachael Ray to talk about them.  As a side note, I absolutely loved that Rachael Ray mentioned the fact that she doesn’t have children, but she is still involved in this fight for healthier school lunches because as she says, “I don’t have kids but I feel socially responsible.”  As an infertile woman, that spoke volumes to me on the ways we parent — the ways we mother — society as a whole even before or after the loss of our children.

But school lunches.

The USDA have set new standards that will be tweaked at the local level.  In other words, there will be a base standard that will ensure better nutrition to all kids, and then local school boards can make decisions that reflect the financial realities of their school district: do they want to use organic produce, buy locally, or grow their own food.  Schools will increase the fruits and vegetables on the lunch tray every day, including a lot more leafy greens.  Only low-fat or fat-free milk will be offered.  School chefs will utilize more whole grains.  They’re all good steps in the right direction, and all of these changes are being put in place so children can be well-fed and more able to learn.  It actually sounds like the tray may contain more than just beige.

Though the question remains: you can get it on the tray, but it’s up to the child on whether it goes in their body.  Some will eat it because it’s in front of them, and some will decide that it tastes good, and others will end up dumping those leafy greens in the rubbish bin right after they polish off their pizza.  Vilsack spoke about even the snacks in the vending machines sending a consistent message about nutrition to the kids, but if those messages aren’t reinforced at home, I don’t think there is any way for the school to make them loud enough that they drown out the inadvertent messages from parents, friends, commercials, billboards, happy meals, etc.  By which I mean, we all need to shout louder at home with our actions in order to support the work the USDA is doing to try to get good food into children’s bodies.

What were school lunches like for you as a child? Did you buy them and like them? Or did you avoid them like the plague (or wish you could)?

Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations.

Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere–blog writers and/or blog readers.
• Add yourself to the list by filling out this form:  February 2012. I will move the information from the form into the post (usually within 24 hours).
  
• Click here to cut-and-paste this bit of code to add to your sidebar (if you have the old code from another month, remove it and replace it with this one). You need to add the icon or a link to the current list on your blog (see below) and will not be added until it’s up.
• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Dragondreamer’s Lair (parenting, secondary infertility, crafts)
3. Feeling Beachie (life, humor, family)
4. Stork Stalking (smc, miscarriage, science )
5. Hobbit-ish Thoughts & Ramblings (parenting after losses, expecting #2, life)
6. Lessons from an Infertile Social Worker (open transracial adoption)
7. With Just a Little Help (infertility, ivf, ramblings)
8. Birdies Family Journey (family, infertility, life)
9. Knocked up by Another Man (parenting, donoregg, Alaska)
10. The Elusive Second Line (loss of an ovary, PCOS, TTC #1 )
11. MoJo Working (FET, foster/adopt, TTC 10+ years)
12. Justin & Jessica: Our Journey to Parenthood (infertility, stillborn, life)
13. Musings of a Hormonal Egg Basket (parenting after IVF)
14. Searching for our silver lining (unexplained infertility, miscarriage, FET)
15. A Blanket 2 Keep (IUI, life, hope)
16. If You Don’t Stand For Something (MFI, life, waiting)
17. How I Spend My Dash (life, parenting after IF, twins)
18. It Is What It Is (Or Is It?) (donated embryos, ttc #2, adult adoptee)
19. Detour (ttc#1, miscarriages, infertility)
20. Life As I Know It (twins, parenting, life)
21. Notes from the Ninth Circle (IVF, insurance, PGD)
22. Navigating Cyberloss (grief, loss, recovery)
23. Pregnancy 101 (infertility, clomid, health)
24. Hapa Hopes (infertility, intercultural, treatment)
25. Syringe Sisters (infertility, ivf, mfi)
26. Emma in Mommyland (pregnancy after miscarriage, pregnancy, ramblings)
27. Chasing Our Stork: From ART to Adoption (international adoption, pregnancy, graduate school)
28. Dwelling on Dreams (miscarriage, rpl, loss)
29. The Redhead Files (infertility, endometriosis, recurrent miscarriage)
30. The Squashed Bologna: a Slice of Life in the Sandwich Generation (autism parenting, parenting, grieving)
31. Writing For Life (pg after ivf, life in uk )
32. I’m Just Ducky, Thanks (surrogacy, adoption, RPL)
33. The Cornfed Feminist (pcos, irony, oversharing)
34. Greetings From Nowhere, NM (weightloss, hashimoto’s, lupus)
35. MISSION: Fertile Seoul (infertility, international adoption, happiness)
36. For We Are Bound by Symmetry (ivf, miscarriage, ttc #1)
37. Cherish This Day (sagittal craniosynostosis, overcoming IF, domestic goodness)
38. A Bend in the Road (life after stillbirth)
39. Cablearms (miscarriages, life, art)
40. Parenthood for Me (adoption infertility coping)
41. Created Family (unexplained infertility, TCM, social worker)
42. A Miracle in the Works (pregnant after unexplained infertility/loss, life,preparing for baby)
43. Bloggers for Hope (adoption, IVF, loss)
44. Living Our Miracle (embryo adoption, premature ovarian failure, motherhood)
45. The In Between (infertility, miscarriage, moving on)
46. Our Pathway to Parenthood (infertility, mfi, septate uterus)
47. The Childless Mom (ivf-icsi #3, fet #1, humor)
48. Donor Diva: Mother via Egg Donation (parenting, secondary infertility, egg donation)
49. I’m Polycystic Inside (PCOS, ttc#1, ranty (sometimes))
50. Lori Does Maryland (baby-after-loss, current IVF)
51. Claudsy’s Blog (writing, life, questions)
52. Zero Guarantees (9miscarriages-now suro twins)
53. Inconceivable! (donor egg, family, step-parenting)
54. Cease and Decyst (pcos, anovulation, irreverence)
55. Our Adventure Through Infertility (infertility, low carb, health)
56. One Day At a Time (life, IUI, hope)
57. TheStorkDiaries (infertility, humor, 30-something)
58. The Barreness (infertility, art, life)
59. Add yourself by filling out the form…

Q: What if I miss a day?

A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments–12 comments instead of 6.

Q: What if I have two blogs? Can I sign up twice, listing both blogs?

A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

Q: What is an Iron Commenter?

A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is violet, the next month it will be green, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

Q: You said the list closes on the 21st. Well, it’s still the 21st where I am. Why aren’t you moving my information onto the list?

A: All dates and times are U.S. Eastern Standard Time (UTC/GMT -5 hours). The list closes around 11 p.m. EST on the 21st.

Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

Q: Mel, my question wasn’t covered at all. What do I do?

A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

Looking for the comment section? It has been closed on this post. Use the form in the directions to add yourself to the list.

Updated with name of app (see below)

I have been putting off going to see my general practitioner for a yearly checkup because I’m afraid of what she’ll say about my eating habits/lack of exercise.  I’ve stopped running for the time being while I’m trying to finish a manuscript, and I’ve always eaten like crap.  Josh has pointed out that these problems still exist whether or not I see the doctor, so I might as well put on my big girl panties and go for my annual physical.  He has also pointed out that her word isn’t G-d; she is there to make suggestions, but it’s up to me to make decisions about my overall health.  Through a strange turn of events, I ended up on the phone with her nurse, and while I was talking to her, I made an appointment.

Then I promptly freaked out.

I cannot add exercise back into my life at the moment and keep my sanity because there is nothing else I can give up, timewise.  Which left my eating habits.  So in one day, with the help of my friend, C, who is doing this with me (and I seriously could never have gotten started if I wasn’t IMing with her non-stop throughout the day every day about every morsel of food passing between our lips), we have overhauled the entire way we eat.  I downloaded an app that tracks what I’m consuming and the nutritional value of those items, and I only eat what is in my food budget for the day.  I am such a numbers person so this is perfect for me.  I see what I have to spend, I see what I need to buy, and I try to ensure that I have some room for savings.  I am eating no processed foods with the exception of Kashi granola bars (I did a comparison of all granola and powerbars based on protein, fiber, sugar, and cost, and Kashi came out as the best option).

I am already obsessed with this app: keeping it neat, filling it out, trying out different food combinations to make the best nutritional plan for the day.  I am very proud that I have started this on a week when I have a cold and my period.  There, I’m going to say it completely immodestly — I am so damn proud of myself for changing the way I’ve eaten for the last 10 years.  For not giving in to the siren song of Yogiberry and choosing to reward ourselves with Legos instead of food.  That it isn’t even about weight loss (well, yes, it is, but you know what I mean) — I feel healthier.  I go through my day feeling better.  I feel like I’ve accomplished something huge.

And now I have a question, and I’m sure someone knows the answer: I am going over in the sugar category, but almost all the sugars I’m eating are coming from fruits and vegetables.  For instance, I went over 20 grams of sugar yesterday, but the culprits were blueberries and a sweet potato (okay, and a yogurt, but I have to finish these Wallaby yogurts before I switch to the lower sugar Greek yogurt AND I can’t give up the yogurt because it’s my breakfast protein).  At the same time, I’m way under my carb limit.  And my fat limit.  How bad are sugars?  Should I be limiting my fruit intake in order to get under that sugar limit?  Or should I only be concerned about sugar if we’re talking refined sugars, baked goods, candy?

App: The one I’m using is MyFitnessPal.  It operates a lot like the Weight Watchers app, except it’s free.  Plus, you can access it online, on your blackberry, your iPhone, iPad, etc.  And it has that cool scanner function.

*******

Speaking of food, I was obviously amused by this:

Even though I wish I could edit it (the repetition wasn’t necessary).  Plus, people don’t say, “passing on the left” as much as they either say, “stand right!” or stand behind you on the escalator sighing very loudly.  But the best part of this is what I finally learned the name mumbo sauce, something I’ve eaten my whole life that I didn’t know (1) was a DC thing though in retrospect, I can only think of one place I’ve seen it outside of the DC area and (2) had a name.  I’ve always referred to it as “the red stuff.”  When I heard “fries with mumbo sauce,” I Googled it, realized that the sauce had a name, and then said, “I never thought to put that on fries.  Damn, that would be good.”  I am a Marylander at heart, so my fries are always smothered in Old Bay.  Not that I’m eating French fries anymore.  Since, you know… the whole change in eating thing.  So I’ve learned the name mumbo sauce too late since I won’t be partaking in any of the foods that go with mumbo sauce for a long while.  Or the mumbo sauce itself since I’ve always suspected that it can’t be very good for you.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week as well as the week before.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Even Here?” (Mrs. Spit… Still Spouting Off)
• “The First Rule of Mommyblogging…” (Crib Chronicles)
• “Forward” (Crib Chronicles)
• “The IVF 2WW Survival Guide” (My Path to Insanity & Beyond)

Okay, now my choices this week.

I loved From IF to When’s post about politics and your body.  Seriously, how can you not stand up and cheer when you read: “There is never shortage of debate about how and what women should do with their bodies. Yet, the argument for equality in women’s healthcare compared to men, or in women’s healthcare compared to other women (e.g. infertility coverage) is minimal. Politicians would rather tell me what I can and cannot do with my own body than give me equal access to medical services.”  The post is a great rallying cry, especially with an election coming up.

My Lazy Ovaries has a very honest, powerful post about choosing between donor eggs and living child-free.  They are both of two minds about the decision and she admits: “Sometimes I feel like I’m focusing on the crappy parts of parenthood, just so I can convince myself it’s OK not to want it, to make it hurt less to not have it.”  But this is the part that really floored me: “But this is what infertility does to you. It makes you question every little thing in much greater detail than you ever have before, in a constantly repeating loop.”  The questions she asks can only be answered by Slackie O and her husband, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t read the whole post and ask yourself the questions too.

IF Crossroads has a post about the future.  I loved the opening of this post because I too spend an inordinate amount of time thinking ahead, planning things, wanting to know “what’s next.”  Or maybe I loved it because I am also in a state of organizing and cleaning at the moment because it makes me feel as if I’m being proactive, as if I have control over my world.

Lastly, Bionic Mamas has a confessional post about reading birth stories, and how she feels when she reads about another person’s experience.  I’ve read a lot of posts explaining why a person feels emotional reading about someone’s success when they’re still in the trenches, but I feel like I’ve rarely encountered the ones where we admit that it’s hard to read breastfeeding posts if you can’t breastfeed, or read about a full term birth if you have a preemie, or whatever your trigger or longing may happen to be.  It’s just an honest post.

The roundup to the Roundup: I have changed the entire way I eat.  Please answer my question on sugar, carbs, and fat.  I learned the name mumbo sauce.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between January 20th and January 27th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

So right after I posted that manifesto on defining womanhood and Josh moved the stroller back to the basement storage room, a woman wrote that she saw my posting on the listserv and wanted to know if she could buy it.  I froze not knowing what to do.  The woman was pregnant with twins, due in August.  Josh’s thought was that if I didn’t give it to her, it would one day end up in a landfill because we couldn’t keep something this large forever — and even if we did, whoever had to deal with our stuff afterwards would likely dump it.  Whereas giving it to her would mean that another woman gets to use it and have that moment of pushing her twins in it.

But it felt (irrationally) like someone else got my moment.

Through a lot of thought and going back-and-forth and taking it out of the box and pretending to push it in the basement, I told her to come last night.  She showed up with her husband and the two of them were lovely.  They were so excited to be pregnant with twins, and that helped a bit, because it felt like we were looking at a version of ourselves from eight years ago, albeit African-American and wearing the sort of coat that my mother would love me to own and wear since she thinks I underdress in the winter.

Eight years ago, like her, I was about seven weeks pregnant; giddy from seeing their heartbeats.  Her due date is just a few weeks off from what should have been my due date.  A little under eight years ago, I was going to the house of another twin mother and she was giving me her baby carrier.  A little over seven years ago, I put out a hysterical message on the very same listserv, and a fellow twin mother came to my house a few hours later and showed me how to do a double feed, handing me her feeding pillows to keep.

All along the way, other twin mothers have given me their items and their advice, and I have tried to do the same.  There is a camaraderie that exists amongst parents of multiples that I don’t see in the general parenting community that feels similar to the one I see in the parenting after infertility community.  The shared experience becomes more important, more bonding sometimes, than parenting itself.

I didn’t tell her what the stroller meant to me, and I waited until the door was shut before I started crying.  And then I crawled into bed with the ChickieNob and told her why I was sad.  She let me stroke her hair, and asked me questions about multiples, and I told her all the things I loved about having twins.  I love that I have two hands, and when they walk on either side of me, we are completely symmetrical.  I love double shnuzzles.  I love when they sit against each other; when they plop down unconsciously almost in the other one’s lap.  I love when they hug each other goodnight and then run to their respective rooms so they can talk on their walkie talkies some more.  I love when I see them in school together, when they read together on the sofa, when the Wolvog stands behind the ChickieNob explaining how to do something on the computer.  I love when they do their math homework together.  I love that they are each other’s best friend, that their twosome is separate from me, their own entity.  I love when they get excited to be with other twins.

And I even miss when they run in two different directions.  When they would take a toy out of the other one’s mouth and start chewing on it as well.  When they would hide together in the kitchen cabinet.  When both wanted to be fed or held or changed at the same time.

As much as I love building Lego robots and having deep conversations about friendship, going to museums or reading books with actual plotlines, I miss that babyhood.  I miss the smells and the warm bodies and the need.  They were not as much fun to be around when they were babies.  I was mostly talking to myself.  I sometimes felt very lonely even though there were two people in the room.  And now I never feel lonely; I always have someone willing to try one of my half-baked ideas.  But I can’t help but miss that other time too; to wish that instead of life being linear, it would move more in a W-shape, looping back through each stage of life so you could experience it again.