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I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

We went to the yearly NICU reunion at the hospital. One of our favourite nurses died a few months ago and they spoke about her during the address. They also had a scrapbook set up where families could share memories about her. I got very weepy while I was there because she was this person who was there at the start and who remembered the twins year after year. She usually greeted us at the sign-in table, and she obviously wasn’t there this time. The ChickieNob saw me crying and asked why everyone was crying when they mentioned P–, so I told her that she had died and her response was the natural one: why is everyone upset if she wasn’t part of our family.

Because she was still a thread in the enormous blanket we’re weaving of our lives, Chickie.

Because through circumstances, our lives crossed and I learned all about hers in the late night hours that we stayed up in the NICU, and she was obviously a witness to ours. She held the twins long before many of the people currently in their life touched the twins. And that is a powerful thing — to lose someone who was there at the beginning. There are so few left at the hospital that we still have contact with, that were there to thank face-to-face.

Read the rest here.

I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

The Wolvog came to this awful realization during the first week of school — that this was it. That every year, it would start anew, but it would all repeat in a different formation. That from now until 18, he’s in school. And then he’s in college. Then he’s maybe in grad school. And then he’s in a daily job. But every year, at least until he’s 18, he will keep up with the race only to find himself back at the starting line every September.

When you see time stretching on ahead of you like that and how much you still have to get through, it’s overwhelming. And when you look backwards at how quickly time actually passes, it is equally overwhelming.

Therefore, instead of living my life as if I am frantically counting pomegranate seeds, I am attempting to start this year by just enjoying the new fruit.

Read the rest here.

I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

I feel like I didn’t get enough time this summer. It’s greed. I can’t point to one day that we frittered away, but I feel as if I didn’t use my time well enough. I am plagued by the idea of enoughness. There was a new beach I heard about that we never found time to visit. It feels like I didn’t do enough this summer if we never got to that beach. And yet I can’t point at any particular day and say, “see, you wasted that time.” Because every day felt full. We saw friends and family and hung out at the pool (not enough though!) and did a brief stint at camp and took some trips. We would have had to give up something in order to get to that beach, and I can’t imagine what we should have given up.

I am really not ready for school to begin. Summer feels like dry sand that escapes between your fingers. There’s no way to hold it, no way to build anything with it.

Read the rest here.

I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

I decided to read her my favourite post by Susan Niebur, Toddler Planet, who died a few years back. I bookmarked this post and return to it often because it is probably the most profound, important thing I have ever read on the Internet. A big claim, yes, but I think if you read the whole post, you’ll agree.

She explains with a story:

Life is given to each of us. We each get one shot at this sucker, and we are never really told that it will be fair. We each get one life, one daily wage, and that’s it. The guy next door gets one life to live. The mom down the street gets one too. No one ever promised us the same life, the same opportunities, the same blessings, or the same time to live.

If we look at it that way, we are all treated fairly by the universe. Even when it doesn’t feel as if we are being treated fairly by the universe. Can we really argue? I mean, we’re given exactly what we were promised: A single life. And what we do with that life, and the circumstances that we encounter while living it, are both in and out of our hands.

Read the rest here.

I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

I wanted to play the kids Squeeze’s 45s and Under but I didn’t have it on my iPhone. This was after I had sung the same six or so lines of “Goodbye Girl” over and over again while I washed dishes. Maybe they didn’t really want to hear Squeeze sing it, but I wanted them to hear Squeeze sing it. Sometimes I pretend that I can’t hear them protesting while I scroll through the artists list.

Except they were spared because I didn’t have any Squeeze on the iPhone.

I didn’t really feel like listening to anything else, but I already had the music app open, so I put on Ben Fold’s Rockin’ the Suburbs. I sang loudly through the first two songs, as if that would help the twins like the album better. Because my voice warbling off-key louder than Ben Fold’s voice makes it that much more enjoyable. The twins ignored me.

“You know that one of our wedding songs is on this album,” I told them.

“Oh my G-d, do we have to listen to something in Hebrew?”

“No, it’s in English. Do you want me to skip to it? It’s a love song.”

The Wolvog rested his forehead on the table, as if mushy songs shove him downward like an upperclassman dangling his head over a toilet. “Please.”

Read the rest here.