My First Born

When people ask me how old I am and I am distracted, I will often say 28, even though I am really 38. My life as I knew it ended on February 7th, 2000 as that was the day that God brought Colin into my life.

Colin is a very complex child. He is anxious but is also laid back. He always worries about the littlest things but will almost always go with the flow. He is incredibly, painfully shy. In short, he is a minny me.

He looks almost identical to pictures of my dad at his age. He is tall and thin, and when he starts to grow his ears are the first thing to start. For about a week or two he is out of proportion and then it seems like overnight it is back to normal.

Colin has a sock problem. He will only wear white socks that do not have extra cushion on the bottom. They can not have any color on the bottom and they have to have a seamless toe. For the last 5 years he would only wear socks from the Stride Rite store, but recently he grew out of them. This is a problem of epic proportions for this household. When he grew out of the baby socks from Old Navy it took me about 3 months and $100 to find an acceptable replacement.

Colin changed my life in so many ways. He makes me laugh out loud every day. He can also push my buttons when he wants to, but usually reserves that for special occasions. He was not an easy baby, but he is a great joy to me now that he is older. He will usually do what I ask him to do if I can get his attention, and he tolerates his younger brother. I think that is only because he feels responsible for him. I told him he could have a sibling if he asked God and God said it was OK. A few months later we were expecting and he was so proud of himself. That was an interesting conversation with the babysitter. Apparently the kids were all talking about where babies come from. He managed to convince five four-year olds that he was responsible for our baby. It made it quite convenient because he still hasn't asked how babies are made. It also taught him that prayers can be answered.

Every day I ask him if he knows how much I love him. I don't think he ever will.

My Other Half

Lets talk a little bit about my Husband, Dave. He is the love of my life, but sometimes I forget that fact. He is gentle and kind and loving. He is shy, naive and very funny. He is a great father and loves our kids unconditionally in a way that I envy. He has patience to spare and lends some to me when I get past my breaking point, which seems to be often. Some might say he is the stereotypical guy-next-door.

He is also frustrating beyond belief. He is stubborn and can be passive aggressive with the best of them. If it comes to a sporting event that he wants to attend (of which there are MANY) he will find a way to go. He can be selfish without even realizing he is doing it. Sometimes he is selfish just to be a jerk.

In short, he is a typical man.

Neither of us can remember the first time we actually met. He was just part of the background of college. He used to deliver the mail to the part of the library where I worked. The ladies that I worked with did not really like the guy I was seeing at the time and wanted me to go out with "the mailman" instead. Eventually I saw the light and wanted to go out with him, but it seemed he lost interest. I then launched my plan to woo him back. Several mutual friends knew I wanted to date him and got us together for a group project in one of our classes. He said if I typed the project he would take me to dinner and the movies. I typed the paper, he took me to Chi Chi's and to see "A Few Good Men". When he was leaving he kissed my forehead. I had to actually ask if we had been on a date. It turns out we were. Who knew.

The rest, 15 years later, is history. We have had a pretty good life. Quite a few ups and quite a few downs, but such is life.

I wouldn't want to share mine with anyone else.