Lilybear, It’s almost midnight. I’m working in the office, but come into the bedroom, because I hear you talking in your sleep. Your bare tushie is exposed. You’re mumbling. You are so damn cute. I give you a boob, wait, cover you, and go back to work.
Lily, I wrote Daddy this letter today. I question whether I should include it in this journal, because I want you to love your father, but I also want to be honest about how things are. Honesty is very important to me. The most respectful thing I can do for another person is to be… Continue reading
Lilia, We had a wonderful day today. Lazy morning, leisurely meals, you smiled, laughed, danced, ran around told stories. We went to Lowe’s to buy plumbing parts. They were impressed you knew words like “reverse osmosis” at the tender age of 2 3/4. You helped me and Daddy assemble the bidet (which we probably won’t… Continue reading
Lily, Today you told Daddy that Frisco, Jack, and Grandpa Sheldon aren’t really dead. They’re just in a different room. They’re in the dining room and Grandpa Sheldon is holding them. I would like to believe that’s true. I hope you do have a connection to folks, family who aren’t incarnate any more.
Poo, The day after our horrible day (when I lost it), we had a fantastic day. That’s the pattern: horrible day when mommy is bad, immediately followed by wonderful day when mommy is trying harder than ever. By the way, you can recite the entire Peter Pan book or record by yourself. You will pretend… Continue reading
Lilybear, You have changed. You used to want to wash your hands 20 times a day. Now, you don’t want to wash anything anywhere. Not your smelly cookie and tushie, not your hands, not your face. The food does eventually fall off. Urine dries. Your hands stay sticky and dirty all day. What should I… Continue reading