when noni and auntie came to town

Zoom. It's March.

Way back in January, which seems like only yesterday, the triplets were scheduled to participate in a strings concert at their school: William and Elizabeth, performing on the violas, and Carolyn performing on the cello.  I happened to mentioned this upcoming event, in passing, during a phone call with my mother, and much to my surprise (and delight), she decided that she would plan on attending the children's performance.



This was no small feat, because she would have to find someone to help look after Jim for a few days, so she could fly to Virginia for the event.  To further add to our surprise, a few days after Mom told us she'd definitely be attending, she called to tell me that our beloved Aunt Grace, would also be traveling up to Virginia for the concert.



So I immediately had the children blow the dust off their instruments and bribed them to practice. Yo-Yo Ma and Yuri Bashmet, we're definitely not.  At least not yet. 

The concert was scheduled for Tuesday evening, so the plan was that we'd spent a few days together before the big show, and then they'd leave for home on Wednesday morning.  While my mother was able to fly in from Florida on a Saturday, Aunt Grace ran in to all kinds of challenges with her flight, and wound up driving solo the 500 miles from South Carolina on Sunday.

As luck would have it, Monday was a clear day.  (I'll write later this week about what exactly we did on Monday. It involves rotary cutters, sewing machines, and an absolute miracle.)  But by Monday night, a storm rolled in and dropped several inches of snow, such that school was canceled on Tuesday. And with the cancellation of school, came the cancellation of all school related events.

Including the fourth grade strings concert.  

When I woke up at 6:30 AM to see the snow falling outside and read the e-mail that school had been canceled, I thought, "Well, we'll just have a nice quiet day at home and spend some wonderful time creating memories with Noni and Auntie!"

Those thoughts no sooner formed in my mind, when I heard a cough - cough, the weak cry of "MOM!" followed by the running of little feet down the hall to the bathroom, just in the nick of time.  Elizabeth, it would turn out, had the stomach flu, which would last for 18 hours.



With Elizabeth on the couch for the full day, and me next to her holding a bowl trying to fight off the feeling that I was staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun ... William, Carolyn and Henry suited up and ran outside to play with their father.   Auntie and Mom stood in the window overlooking the yard, and remarked how wonderful it is that Charlie plays so well with his children.

Here are some photos of Charlie playing "well" with his children in the snow...

He departs from the fort, in what appears to be an attempt to help his child who has fallen to the ground and seems to be in pain.



Hark! He is not there to help, but to crush them, with balls of snow in his hands.



This causes the others to pile on and further crush their sibling.



Charlie untangles himself and pelts a child with chunks of snow.



Every action has an equal an opposite reaction. Unless, you're dealing with three children against one adult in a snowball fight, and then the reaction tends to be more positively weighted.



CRASH!



BOOM!



BAM!



SLAM! (Poor little Henry, he's looking at me for help.)



TUMBLE, TUMBLE!



THUMP.



Around this point, Henry had decided he'd had enough "fun" and came inside to play Dominos with Noni.



And Carolyn - our Gracie - retreated to the kitchen to make a homemade chocolate cake with her namesake.



There is no better chocolate cake IN THE WORLD than the ones Aunt Grace makes from scratch.



Less than an hour after Mom and Auntie left on Wednesday morning, Charlie came down with the flu. Carolyn had it Thursday night, and I had it 10 minutes after Carolyn. Thankfully, the boys were able to dodge the virus bullet, as were Mom and Auntie.

Although Elizabeth wasn't feeling well enough, William and Carolyn were able to have an impromptu living-room concert for a few minutes on Tuesday night, and Mom and Auntie both agreed, That Was Plenty.   I'm not sure any of us could have withstood 60 children playing their stringed instruments for 30 minutes, in a closed gymnasium.

See, there really are no accidents.

the good news, and the bad news

In the winter, I usually have my finger on the pulse of all things weather-related, because I've got the heart of a child when it comes to snow.  This week, however, I haven't been closely following the weather since my appetite had been temporarily appeased with the big storm over the weekend.



Imagine my surprise - and delight - when I learned last night that we were in the path of Remus (or is it Quantum?) and would be receiving an additional 2-4 inches of snow today.

That's the good news.  



At 4:15 AM, we received the e-mail that school would be delayed by two hours ... and an hour and a half later, we received the e-mail that school would be canceled due to conditions.  My response was to fly out of bed, throw on my snow pants, snow boots, jacket, hat, mittens ... and urge Charlie to do the same. We would go for a long walk in this wonderful snow, while our children were sleeping.

So we did and it was peaceful and serene and perfect, walking in a winter-wonderland with my husband while the snow continued to gently fall. When we came home, I wanted to go sledding - just once or twice, down our back hill, before we woke up our still sleeping children, gave them the good news about an unexpected SNOW DAY! and made breakfast.



Keep in mind, if I'd known earlier that this storm was coming, I would have made sure all of our sleds were accounted for, and our gear was at the ready. But when I went looking for our sleds today, they were no where to be found.  That's because they were abandoned on the hill by children who had been sledding earlier in the week, and are now totally buried.



That's the bad news.

growth spurt

I could have sworn these pajamas fit him just last week. 



Or maybe it was last month.  Whatever the case, it wasn't that long ago.  If I remember correctly, they were too big and I had to roll them over at the waist so that they wouldn't fall down. And even then, they were so long that they dragged on the ground.

Watch ... in another month, he'll be 6'2".

yesterday and today (alternate title(s): my man from Canada, a mid-altantic winter, or this is why snow skiing on the east coast is so icy)

Yesterday, the temperature was below freezing and it snowed all day.  This was the scene from our couch, where we laid beneath blankets, watching Sabrina. It was beautiful.



We took a break to go sledding for a few hours, and the conditions were so awesome, we had to dig our heels in to the snow before we flew down the embankment in to the creek.



There was a twilight snowball fight (Charlie and I totally dominated)...



And a lot of snowman building, including the construction of this hood ornament (by Elizabeth), which I think every vehicle needs in winter...



After a week of freezing, single digit temperatures, with wind chills of below zero - today, the temperature is in the high 40s. It feels like spring and Charlie's out shoveling our driveway in shorts and sandals.



You can take the boy out of California, but you can't take California out of the boy.

the best kind of day

Charlie and the boys were supposed to drive to Maryland today, and spend the night at the Science Museum with the Cub Scouts.  And I was supposed to be home with the girls and several of our friends, and have a Jane Austen movie marathon.

There would be 12 of us moms and daughters, and as a warm-up we would watch "Sense and Sensibility" before we took in the visual delight of the full six-hour series of "Pride and Prejudice" on our big screen television.  We would be huddled around our couch and on bean bags, next to a roaring fire. There was to be soup, and sandwiches, and fun appetizers, and chocolate.

This was intended to be a day of female bonding at its best.  

But then we heard that severe weather was rolling in and I said, "Fear not! We will have a P&P Pajama Party!"  But then the Cub Scout function was canceled and our better judgement took over regarding people venturing out in to the snow storm which has already dropped four inches in just over two hours, and is expected to continue falling in to the evening.

We've decided to take a "snow-sleet-freezing rain check" and postpone our day of Jane Austen fun for a few weeks.  My reprieve from the sadness of not having our home full of dear friends watching Mr. Darcy and Lizzy Bennett, is the spectacular snow falling outside.

And this little one, who finds great joy in shoveling the sidewalk, while it's still snowing....









The visual of this, reminds me of trying to keep a clean house, while they're still growing.

oh snow you don't

As I've written previously, we're trying to decide where life will be taking our family next.  Within the next four months, do we move to Massachusetts, or do we move to Texas?   On the one hand, I love winter and am so thrilled whenever it snows.

Exhibit A:  We received five inches this week! 



On the other hand, I don't know if my family loves winter as much as me. When we heard from relatives in New England that they had received more than 50 inches of snow during the month of February, my husband's enthusiasm to pack up and move north has quite literally chilled.

Exhibit B: This is my step-sister outside of her home in Massachusetts.  Somewhere beneath the nearly five feet of snow that has fallen in the past three weeks is her car....



My hope is that she digs it out before Easter.

when the teacher becomes the student

This morning, half of our brood pulled on their neon exercise gear, and headed to the basement to work out.  Because this is what they do for fun. They watch P90X videos.



It was four years ago that I bought the video set and promised myself that I'd finish all 90 days of it.  But then my P90X turned in to P6X, because I only made it six days before I gave up evening work outs for a comfortable bed and movies on demand.

Today I joined my little fitness fanatics. After we cranked out a solid hour of leg and back exercises, the kids turned on the Ab-Ripper series and kept going.  I kept going, too ... right up the stairs and straight for the Tylenol.  If I can walk tomorrow, it'll be a miracle.  But even if I can't walk, the children tell me we can do floor exercises.

They're convinced we can get through all 90 days of this, together.  I'm really inspired by their enthusiasm. And their ability to sit down and stand up without assistance.

love is...

Spending several hours brainstorming four Pinewood Derby car designs.

Spending several days carving and sanding four Pinewood Derby cars.  

Supervising the sanding and sanding and sanding and sanding.  

Supervising the painting and painting and painting and painting. 

Weighing four cars to ensure the weight is just right and does not exceed five ounces.

Flying out on a cross-country business trip - on Super Bowl Sunday - so that you can be home just in time to carefully transport four little cars to the big event. 

Spending a full day, from 7:30 AM until 3:30 PM, watching races.

Listening to scores of engineers, including those who design planes and rockets for the US Government, tell you how the best place to put weight is in the back of the car, just in front of the rear axle.  And if you really want to improve your speed, you can sand down the nails for the wheels, and put the little wooden car in an wind tunnel, or tread mill, to ensure that the sources of friction are reduced. 

Laughing when your wife tells you that you could save yourself a ton of time if you just glued the Pinewood Derby box to the car, like she suggested, two years ago.



Love is... 

Despite the large amount of time required to design and build and supervise and race, saying you'd do it all again, just to see the smiles on their faces. 

("Toothless", with our toothless). 

teachers: opening a mind and touching a heart

One might think that three children, born within three minutes of each other, would have very similar personalities or traits.



But our trio couldn't be more different from one another.

There's William, who is very athletic and all-things military-obsessed.  He has a vivid imagination and although Tresiam has largely disappeared, he introduced me to three new imaginary friends, just yesterday.  He is intrigued by physical fitness and nary a day passes, that he isn't out running laps around our driveway,  dropping to the ground to pound out some push-ups, before showing off his little biceps and "six-pack."



He is popular with the kids in his grade, and loves to be funny. He is also a very gifted writer, concocting the most detailed and engaging stories. His teacher has reached out to me on several occasions, including earlier today, to express how impressed she is with his writing, and urging that if he doesn't have a journal at home - that he begin keeping one.   He says he wants a blog.



There's Elizabeth, who is very energetic and (still) all-things bunny-obsessed.  She is an outstanding artist, crafting things out of whatever she can find, all the time.  Without my borderline obsessive compulsive disorder of purging our house once a month of anything not bolted down, I've no doubt the floor of her room would be concealed beneath boxes, paper, and random trash things she's picked up from who-knows-where.  She never stops moving, and scares me with her daring try-anything personality.  Hence, the helmet.



Elizabeth has a kind heart (most of the time) and according to her teacher, gets along with everyone in her class. While most of the girls her age have settled in to cliques, she has somehow transected all of them - and is good friends with both girls and boys, alike. Elizabeth has challenges with reading, and having been diagnosed with a learning disability myself when I was her age - I try to be very sensitive, and yet encouraging that she will totally conquer this, one day.  She wants to live in Hawaii, surf, make art, and drive a lime green jeep.



There's Carolyn, who is the most quiet and introverted of the triplets.  She loves all living things - including worms and spiders and frogs and dogs, and would never dream of intentionally stepping on an ant.  She loves to read, and read and read, and would be perfectly content to spend a day with a book.  But because I try to encourage her to do other things, she also enjoys painting, and writing, and playing quietly with little figurines.



Carolyn does not have the same social butterfly gene that her siblings do; and even during free time at school, she is much more content to read than interact with other children. Her teachers - since first grade - have reached out to me with concern that she may have an attention deficit disorder. More and more, I've begun to think that her desire to always have her nose in a book (and thus, check out of the world around her), is some kind of defense mechanism.  My suspicion is that it has something to do with her quiet personality, coupled with being the tallest child in her class (99th percentile). When she grows up, she wants to be a veterinarian and librarian. She once wanted children, but now worries they may want her to run around and play - and she'd rather stay inside and read.



Earlier this week, Carolyn's teacher reached out to me that she is very worried about her lack of engagement in class.  When I wrote her back and told her that we've talked to the pediatrician and will be seeing a counselor soon, I also explained that Carolyn has been hypersensitive to the behavior of other girls, and I don't think that she is yet equipped to deal with what she perceives to be social rejection.  I'm fairly confident this too shall pass. But I'm also remembering how difficult it was at her age - - especially as I was in fifth grade and middle school - - and I shudder at the memory of how awful kids can be.

Her teacher responded to me today and fully agrees that there may be some self-esteem issues at play.  She then proposed that to help with the self-esteem issues, she will be initiating an effort where Carolyn will work with first and second graders, several times a week, on their reading.  Today, this wonderful teacher pulled my daughter aside and said, "I've selected you to help the younger children because you are such a good reader and have such a gentle heart, I think you'll be the perfect person to help them improve their reading skills."

I don't want to blow this out of proportion, but I'm fairly confident, this one gesture by her amazing teacher, will alter my daughter's life.  When I was in seventh grade, my Special Ed teacher told me, "You have so much potential - yet to be tapped." And I believed her.  So my response to Carolyn's teacher today, included a message along the lines of, "Thank you for your eyes in SEEING that there was an issue here; and for your heart in CARING enough to reach out to me and facilitate a change."

Good teachers are angels on earth. 

When Carolyn got off the bus today, she was so flattered - and flabbergasted - she didn't know what to do.  She excitedly explained to me what would be happening.



It would be HER choice to select two other children from her class, to accompany her to the Reading Pod, where they would sit and work with first and second graders for 30 minutes, three times per week. Tonight it began to sink in, the full breadth of her responsibility, and she began to get nervous.  



Fortunately, she has a little brother who is more than happily willing to help her prepare.

when stress cracks you like a cadbury creme-filled egg

Stress is a funny thing because it has a very unique way of expressing itself in people.

For me, I take information, internalize it - think I'm doing just fine and then after a day or two - find that I'm unable to sleep and yet unable to stay awake, almost simultaneously.  Last night for example, I was desperate to get in bed. But once I was there, I read books until 2 AM and then tossed and turned and was wide awake for the day at 5:55, with several things to do, but unable to get up and actually do anything until 7:40.   I just think when I lay there ... think about what I should do, what I shouldn't do, and imagine the different scenarios.  Then we miss the bus.

It can be so tough to be a grown-up. 

Charlie and I are again on the threshold of making a huge decision.  Where are we going to go?  What are we going to do?  I think we're afraid that we're going to make a wrong choice and that fear, just manifests stress and a host of other ailments like my narcoleptic insomnia.

I say "we" but in reality, I'm the one that's afraid. I'm afraid of giving up my career that has supported us. I'm afraid of moving north and buying a farm and relying on Charlie to carry the financial responsibility for our family.  I'm afraid of the alternative - moving to Texas and getting pulled deeper in to my career and away from my children.  I'm afraid of how fast these children are growing up and the teenage years that are looming a mere two and a half years away.  I'm afraid of success. I'm afraid of losing control.  And for as much as I enjoy each day ... I'm afraid of this nagging feeling that I'm hanging out in the "waiting room" of life.  Tick, tock!

Because I tend to overanalyze things, and then write about my over analysis...

On the one hand, we could move to Texas for a few years and do very well for ourselves. People at my age in the company are very well poised to move in to higher management roles, but what makes me think I'd want that?  (Answer, I'm human).

For as much as I love the idea of more women managers in this business, I'm afraid of success and what it will do to my ability to control the other components of my life.  I do not need the additional pressure and stress that comes with increasing responsibility.  Nor do I need the additional money.   That sounds crazy, but what do you do with additional money?  My experience is that you consume.

You buy houses and cars bigger than what you really need ... more crap that your kids won't play with and this makes you angry that they're ungrateful and don't care for the things you bought with money that you made while sacrificing time away from them ... and in general, you just have more and the weight of the stuff in your life bogs you down.  

Unless, I'm wonderfully disciplined and  can convince everyone to live in a small apartment so we can aggressively save for four college tuitions for two years.  (Mom, that's unlikely).

On the other hand, we have an opportunity to buy a 20-acre sheep farm with virtually no mortgage, in a picturesque little ski town, near one of the best STEM schools in New England. This sounds idyllic, except we haven't figured out yet how we'll support ourselves, beyond Charlie's very part-time consulting business, and my ability to 1) catch a sheep; 2) sheer a sheep; and 3) sell its wool.

For as much as I love the idea of that life, I'm afraid of being broke and desolate in a nearly 300-year old farmhouse with one bathroom.  What if there is a health crises and we have insufficient insurance?  What if the roof leaks?  What if a fence breaks?  What if we all get sick and have to use the bathroom at once and the toilet won't flush?  What if we have to EAT THE SHEEP?

That's how I'm dealing with my stress.  I'm imagining worst case scenarios and trying to summon the strength of spirit to charge forward despite the fear.  I'm also reminding myself how much I love an adventure. Whatever happens, I know this will be one of the best experiences of our lives!  

And then there's my husband...

This evening, Charlie was beside himself.  He's such an even-keeled guy, it's not very often that he is bothered by things, but tonight he was infuriated.  He'd heard this story on the radio while he was coming home from the store about the Cadbury Egg.  

According to Charlie, the confectioner has changed the recipe and packaging of this beloved and traditional treat.  Instead of coming in a 1/2 dozen, there are now five to a box. And the wrappers are different and the driver to this change is purely economic.  What set him off the scale, was that Cadbury was bought by Kraft and as my husband is telling me this story, he is becoming more and more agitated.

His face is red and his fists are clenched and he's yelling that Kraft makes crappy macaroni, now they're going to ruin the iconic CADBURY EGG and why can't people just leave GOOD ENOUGH ALONE?  "You know what they did, don't you?" he bellowed. "I'll bet management at Kraft said, 'Just substitute cheap cocoa chocolate instead of the good dairy stuff, and charge them the same amount for five crappy eggs instead of six. People will still buy them and we'll save $14.25 million a year!'  Why does it always have to be about money?!"

I'm not sure, but hearing him say that, makes me thing we should totally buy the farm and rebel against the financial ties that bind us in this society.

Oh, wait a minute.  "Bought the farm."

Doesn't that mean they died?!

the quest for sense and sensibility

For as long as we've lived in Virginia, five years this coming July (how's that possible??) ... we've known that our stay here was temporary. We knew coming in to this situation that by 2015, my company would be constructing a new corporate headquarters in Houston, Texas.



We knew that if I were to stay with my current employer, the expectation is that we'd need to move our family, again.  And while we knew all of this and we've obviously been thinking a lot about it and weighing different options, it really struck me yesterday when I spoke with a 46-year-old co-worker who is in a different part of the country and he was told that he needed to provide his decision regarding whether or not he would move to Texas by March 3.  If he opted not to relocate his family, his last day with the company would be March 4.  And that would effectively conclude his 23-year career with this organization.

Business is business. 

A challenge for myself, and so many of my co-workers who are considered "mid-career", is that if we can hang on until we reach the age of 55, we receive a private pension that comes with insurance benefits that essentially lasts for the rest of our lives.  To put a price tag on that kind of benefit package, would likely top the scales at over a million dollars.  I've heard countless people (including my parents) tell me that type of retirement package is virtually unheard of in this day and age and I'd be a fool to not stick it out.  But, in exchange for that retirement pension - you need to remain with the company until you reach the age of 55 and have worked with them for 15 years.

To terminate your employment short of 55-years old, you're still eligible to receive a pension, albeit significantly reduced and with no insurance benefits, when you turn 65.



At this juncture, I've been with the company for almost 14 years.  But I'd need to continue working, until at least April 20, 2026 in order to retire with my full benefit package.  And then I'd need to wait until I reach 60, in the year 2031, before I receive my pension at 100%.   While I'm wildly speculating, should the cost of crude oil prices continue to nose dive, there's always a chance that lay-offs could occur and who knows what might happen to future pensions?  And if the state of my industry has taught me anything over the past five years - it's that nothing in the business world is guaranteed.  Except taxes.

So at this moment in time, our family is facing two significantly different options.



Option 1 is that we accept the move to Houston this summer, immediately after the children finish the school year.  We, or rather my company, sells our home in Virginia, and we take what equates to a very profitable relocation package.  Under this scenario, I'm committed to remain in Texas for a two-year minimum.  Or, until the children have completed third, and sixth grades, respectively.  We could move at that point. Alternatively,  the more financially conservative approach (and somewhat soul-sucking) is that I could continue working until I reach the golden age of 55, provided I'm not canned. Management assures me that wouldn't be the case, but crazier things have happened.



Before I get to Option 2, I need to convey a situation that happened with my boss a few months ago. When he asked me my thoughts on moving to Texas, I told him, "As a Project Manager, I always start with the end in mind.  That said, if we move to Texas I'll need to continue working for another 12 years, before I'm eligible retirement. In that same span of time, my four children will graduate from high school and will likely attend college in Texas, seeing as we'll have four in school at once and I'll be pushing for in-state tuition.  I'd then expect that if our children are anything like me or their father, they may fall in love while they are in school. They may opt to get married following graduation, and find jobs in the area.  And then, they may have children. That means I now have GRANDCHILDREN in Texas.  Just like that, BOOM, I'll never leave. And while I thoroughly enjoy the Lone-Star state, I don't want to be buried in Texas."    

Charlie scoffs at me and says it's irrelevant because I'm actually planning to be cremated - but the point is, in my mind's eye, I'm not spending the rest of my life in Texas.  I'd be desperately sad if I could never wear my wool sweaters and snow boots.  And since life happens so fast, I can absolutely see that scenario playing out.

Option 2 is that we do not accept the move to Houston in June.  Instead, I resign from my role this spring and embrace the role of homemaker and homeschooler.  People who know me well tell me that there's no way I could be a homemaker, because I'm too driven and after being at the "high career level" I've been at the past several years, I'd be bored by Day Three.  To that, I just laugh because being a homemaker and teacher sounds like the most GLORIOUS GIFT in the whole world and people who claim to know me well, likely don't know me too well at all.  (Or maybe they do, and I don't know myself??)  So I'll add the caveat that maybe I'd eventually pursue a part-time job if deemed absolutely necessary from a mental stimulation (or financial requirement) perspective.



This option spurs a whole lot of other options, akin to throwing a dart at a map, but the one that we are most seriously considering, is a relocation to Massachusetts and the purchase of a sheep farm where we can tap maple trees for syrup, and spin wool.

Yes! YES!  It's a very real possibility, just like I dreamed about nearly SEVEN years ago!

In either scenario, our Virginia house is going on the market in April or May of this year. While we have tremendously enjoyed it here, I'm craving a life significantly more simple than what northern Virginia has to offer.  So if you've been wondering why the blog has been so quiet the past few months, now you know what's been keeping us busy.



On those nights when I'm not live-streaming Jane Austen movies, Charlie and I are huddled around our computers, analyzing spreadsheets, and developing Excel macros that weight-average the pros and cons of me continuing with my career or retiring at the age of 44 and pursuing my dream of being a full-time wife and mother; while Charlie re-enters the fray of the working world.

And who knows what else?

Maybe we'd learn to do some other things like brew beer and make candles and soap??

Then again, Houston might be an excellent adventure for us, if we pursue it for two years and I'm able to resist the temptation to get pulled deeper in to the career world.   Money is a tempting, tempting thing. But what instantly sobers me up, is looking at our children and realizing that I only have them at home with me for another eight years.   That time is going to fly past and I know we'll regret the things we didn't do ... more than the things that we did.

So in the midst of our spreadsheet analyzing and Jane Austen live-streaming (me, not Charlie he can't handle Jane Austen, although he did seem to enjoy the full six hours of Pride and Prejudice - Colin Firth version), we've been fervently praying for clarity, wisdom and courage.   There are so many thoughts swirling around our heads, we need to be able to have the clarity to recognize the best and healthiest option for our family, and then have the courage to implement it.

If we played the lottery, we'd probably be praying for a winning Powerball ticket, too.

brother bear

Seven and a half years ago, just before I went in to the hospital to deliver Henry, a special package arrived on our doorstep.  It was a gift to our children from Marie, who is Julie's sister.  I can't recall everything that was in the package, but I do recall that there was a little brown bear, that Julie had received when she was sick, that she had named, "Forest."

Every night for the past seven and a half years, William has slept with Forest cuddled between his arms.  And every night when we say our evening prayers, we include one for Julie's family.  Forest's head peeking out beneath William's chin, always reminds us of my good friend, and his first owner.  Since today is Julie's birthday (and coincidentally, Henry's 1/2 birthday), we prayed extra hard for her family, tonight.

When the triplets were in Kindergarten, they were invited to a birthday party at "Build-A-Bear Workshop."  As William worked his way through the line, selecting the animal that he would like to stuff - he chose a little black bear that he named, "Climby."



After he carefully selected the heart that would reside in the bear's chest and oversaw the stuffing process, he proudly showed me his new bear and indicated that this bear had been made specifically for his little brother, and he hoped Henry would love it as much as he loved Forest.  And so it is, Henry is also inseparable from his bear at night.

These two brothers...





Might all of us have someone that loves us as much ... as these two love each other.

(At least most of the time.)