Month: July 2017

So there is someone who, against all odds, maybe I don’t dislike…

~ christine ~ 11 Comments

Since Matthew died I’ve kept mental count of the number of nonbaby loss moms I’ve met (so this excludes those I knew “before”) whose company I’ve enjoyed enough to the point that, if I were to run into them again, I wouldn’t necessarily want to drop dead right on the spot rather I might actually consider having a second conversation with them, which might (gasp) lead to a friendship. And, aside from those I met through a small book club I joined (which has since dissolved), the number is one. Continue reading →

And like that, he’s one

~ christine ~ 6 Comments

On Thursday Joel will turn one. Soon I’ll start cleaning the house in preparation for his party on Saturday. We’ll attempt to make Joel what will probably, at best, be a pathetic-yet-tasty version of a “Howie cake.” We’ll pick out Joel’s outfit, and I’ll stress about our still grassless yard and about whether we’re celebrating Joel’s birthday appropriately, because I don’t know, as I haven’t been to an event like this in ages, as I still don’t interact regularly with society. We’ll finalize our menu filled with Joel’s favorite foods… Pulled pork sandwiches, green beans, some other sides, watermelon, cantaloupe, perhaps fruits in all the colors, displayed (tritely) in the shape of a rainbow on a giant fruit platter, a subtle reminder of just how brutal our journey was to get him here. Continue reading →

Thoughts and happenings catch up

~ christine ~ 3 Comments

Last weekend Mark’s parents visited with their dog Max, and at one point during the weekend I found spots of blood on the floor in our master bedroom hallway, and I first wondered if I’d cut myself shaving, but I didn’t, and all of the other humans swore they weren’t bleeding either, and I couldn’t recall a homicide having taken place, so we eventually decided that the blood was coming from one of the dogs. So we started playing Pin the Blood on the Appropriate Dog Orifice, so we were taking toilet paper to all of the dog orifices, and we all kind of prematurely concluded that Max was dying, because Howie is far more healthy. Continue reading →