We were on a honeymoon of sorts in Jamaica. It had taken us five years of marriage to scrape together the required cash, so "honeymoon" is a liberal term for it, but we were having the time of our lives. We played on the beach, sipped endless tropical drinks through straws, swam in the pool, played tennis, met some friends, and laughed. This is a very relaxed me on that heavenly trip.
A few weeks after we arrived back in the the still deeply frozen tundra called Vermont (our then home), I felt like I might die. Of nausea. I felt like I was trapped inside a milk carton that had been left in that Jamaica sun for quite some time. Peutrid. I started to barf, and..wait...what the???
Peter was vaccuuming when I told him I was pregnant. He looked at me, blinked twice *blink.blink* and kept vaccuuming. He crossed the floor with slightly more intensity and very straight rows. He frowned and squinted at the rug: no crumb was going to escape HIS hoover!
A few minutes later, carpets cleaned and dust settled, he found his wits and sat down next to me on the front step to help me find mine. Together, we rallied for this new adventure.
Enter Chloe, the beautiful wise baby who would take on the job of raising her parents with endless grace and courage. When she was born she looked at us, blinked twice *blink.blink* and started nursing.
I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: this child was born worldly and knowing. She had compassionate down before I did.
She feels things deeply and delights in all things new. She's a flower child living her life in the twenty-first century. She's "home" when she's ouside talking to the animals, admiring the moon and stars, or riding the waves.
Chloe is a writer and an artist. She finds endless joy in creating. And imagining. She's always wondering.
She has a great sense of humor, too. BOO!
Chloe's going to be ten in a few days. She must be exhausted from all the teaching she has to do for us every single day, but we'd like to think she's proud of her efforts. Molding your average people into parents is a tough, tough job.
Of course she's had a little help for the past six and a half years, but nonetheless, she's done a bang-up job. I'm very proud to know her.
Day seven. TRAGEDY STRIKES.
5 hours ago