A Few Bright Spots in a Crazy-Hard Winter

If you don't know me personally (actually, even if you do…), my apologies; you'll probably find this entry super boring.  I'm still struggling with what direction to take this "family" blog now that it has readership.  Suggestions welcome!

The other reason I haven't done any personal blogging is that this winter has just been really rough.  A few snapshots of frustration that will hopefully someday be humorous include:

1. Our dishwasher breaking five or six times, full of dirty dishes each time, and including the week I was trying to bake all my cookies to raise money for International Justice Mission.  
2. Our decade-old, pre-digital television also bit the dust this December.  Right before both kids came down with the stomach flu for a total of 4 nights and days.  And Mark was away at a hematology conference.
3. Of course this was perfect timing for Matthew to spill water all over my laptop, which was a hand-me-down Mac from my mother.  Our printer had also been broken for months.  And we had no money to replace any of these things.  They'd still be sitting around broken today if not for a huge surprise from my mother's brother down in Florida.  Turns out Santa did come this year.
4. In early December we got some sad news about one of Mark's patients.  This very young man had been diagnosed last winter with a cancer that is usually curable, but his cancer turned out to be highly aggressive, completely untouchable by any treatments.  In November Mark sent him to the NIH for some experimental treatment that occasionally works miracles.  On our own family's "Christmas morning" (a Sunday before we were to fly back home for the holidays - for the first time in three years) Mark headed downtown to retrieve and read what we knew were likely to be this young man's final scans.  Mark spent that morning downtown with the family; he wanted to be there and they wanted to hear the news from him.  It was very sad news, and my heart breaks again just thinking about what they've been through.  We thought a lot of this young man while we were home with our own families, knowing that he was home on hospice and he deserved so much more.  He was a very special person, very loved by all his friends and family; Mark said that MD-researchers often have a patient or two who inspire and focus their life's work and he believes this young man will be his.  Mark attended his funeral in January; I wanted very much to go but had no childcare.  His mother's eulogy is something I'll never forget, even though I wasn't there for it.  She said that as a little boy he'd always reach up to take her hand… and on his deathbed he reached up again to take her hand but she knew that this time, he was the one reassuring her instead of the other way around; that's who he was, always strong for others and always positive.  I can't imagine holding my child's hand for the last time.
5. Back to the logistical frustrations:  Picture it, the night before we're supposed to fly out, frantically packing and prepping our apartment for deleading (which is no small task).  Matthew falls and hurts his arm.  Subtract nearly 4 hours in the emergency room (thank goodness he was all right).  Total of three hours of sleep that night, and about the same amount the following night since Claire didn't take well to her new surroundings and cried for hours and hours.
6. Of course:  Spilled coffee all over my new keyboard.  Of course.
7. Return from the holidays.  Can't find the window fixtures for Claire's room.  Suddenly she's waking up at 5:30 instead of 8:30.  Takes literally a week to figure it all out.  Because that's the crux of residency:  It's not just the time they're gone, it's what happens to the time that's left.  Incredibly stressful.
8. Could anything else go wrong?  Why yes.  Just as I was hoping to finally, after 5.5 years of intense training, settle into a more "normal" life out here as Mark commenced lab research, Mark's PI ("Principal Investigator" - the head of the lab, and what Mark hopes to one day be himself) is suddenly being heavily recruited by Memorial in Manhattan.  Apparently some fat cat on Wall Street donated tons of money to Memorial and they're filling their ranks with the best they can get.  Memorial is essentially neck-and-neck with Dana-Farber; some might even say it's better, but the Harvard card is sort of a trump card in a lot of ways because, well, it's Harvard and it always will be.  But if Mark's PI leaves, that will leave us in a tough spot.  Either we would have to move to Manhattan, which we cannot afford and which would really not be fun after I've worked hard to carve out a life for us here, or Mark will have to start all over in a new lab here.  Starting over here would mean forfeiting the loan forgiveness for research that should come through for us this fall.  He spent months last fall working evenings and weekends on his application; it's like writing a grant.  And we really need the forgiveness; $35,000 of principal forgiven would be fantastic, when we still have about $210,000 left.    

So anyway, I started out this winter at a sprint.  I thought I was about to finally hit the residency finish line in terms of a "normal" life and it energized me to bake my IJM cookies and push through cold after cold after cold - literally I was congested for three solid months - with no childcare help whatsoever.  But eventually these various minor disasters took their toll and I'm typing this right now in survival mode.  Just putting one foot in front of the other until the weather gets warmer and we figure out the lab situation, and until Mark finally finishes up a book chapter he was assigned to write half a year ago - it's unpaid, and you "can't say no," politically.  Mark has been working late pretty much every night and I'm still "taking the kids" on the weekends so he can get more work done on that chapter.  Logically I know that we're almost at the real finish line… things should get better really soon once the chapter is done and the lab situation resolves.  But my heart just can't keep "bringing it" another day.  I'm on an emotional "pause" until it's over.  I'm basically hibernating and hoping to find brighter days when I wake up.

As to the bright spots, I do want document these too:

(1)  We had an absolutely fantastic 3-day Christmas in Chicago with Mark's family.  He has a huge family and there is no end of fun adults my age to chat with and adorable nieces and nephews to delight in.  Plus his family is Swedish and there is no end of amazing Swedish food and fun traditions.  I'd been missing all this for three years since Mark couldn't go home either of the past two Christmases.  And introducing my kids to what will be such a special part of their own childhoods was the kind of joy that life is all about.

All the Murakami cousins.  Such amazing kids, each and every one of them.

Not-even-Everybody.

Family magic.

(2)  I also had a nice extended stay at my own house of origin as an after-Christmas.  It's SO.  NICE. to have an extra set of hands (two, really) to help.  And I cherish the time with my parents.  Bonus:  My father's sister and her husband, and two of their three children, made the trek up to Madison to celebrate together and meet Claire.  My aunt is one of my idols and certainly the most I have left of my grandmother, with whom I was really close.  And I love her family.  It was amazing to see them.  I am so glad they made the trip!

Papa and Uncle Jeff made a snowman with Matthew!

My cousin Maggie and my daughter.  Lucky me!!!

(3)  Claire is talking!  At 16 months she says tons of things.  She answers questions with a "Yes," will tell you what TV show she wants and then say "That's the one I want" if you click on it, she even said an emphatic "Da - AD!" when Mark tickled her the other day.  It's hilarious how her sweet, garbled little voice actually says very "adult" things.  Love it.

15 months

16 months 

15 months.
Yes, I'm obsessed with dressing my children.  But I do it on a shoestring budget; here are my tips.
See, also, my Zulily tips.

(4)  Matthew continues to amaze me by being SUCH a good big brother to Claire.  Twice at the gym childcare drop-off he lifted his arms up to "take her" from me, melted my heart!  And I love it when I come back and catch them playing together.  They play very well together at home too which is an absolute godsend for me.  He never stops talking and hearing his often adorable thoughts brightens every single one of our days, no matter what else is going on.

Sugar Cookie Fun

3 years 4 months.

(5)  Mark and I have started a weekly marriage "course" at our church.  It's painful to pay for a babysitter once a week, but we really need to get back on track now that our half-decade of "survival mode" is hopefully finally ending.  Our goal is to continue with the babysitter after the course is over so that we have at least three hours a week for us.  It's clear that if we don't schedule it in, it won't happen.  And I'm not gonna lie:  We really need it.

(6)  My Mom-to-Mom group this year is amazing.  I love these women; I love that we come from such diverse backgrounds and situations, but we have all really bonded and we share laughter and even occasional tears every week.  Mom-to-Mom is a national program that originated at our church out here; every Thursday we meet for an hour of lecture/video on parenting and then another hour to chat with our "small groups" - childcare is excellent, you should definitely look into whether there's a chapter near you.  The woman who started it, Linda, is herself a medical spouse - and the videos often mention the specific struggles of having a very busy partner.

There, now the blog is caught up in terms of documenting our family's "story."  Here's to hoping that this is the very last residency chapter.  I'd love to write an "It Gets Better" chapter in a few months for all my medical spouse readers.

My favorite cookies, my favorite cause.

Now that my blog has some traffic, I want to do a post raising awareness for what I believe to be the most important cause of our time:  Slavery.  We tend to think of slavery as a demon of the past, but it's anything but.  Literally millions of people - many of whom are children - are being trafficked as we speak - as you're reading this.  It's impossible for me to enjoy the childhood I'm working so hard to give my own children when I know that thousands of children just like them - just as innocent and sweet as they are - are being horrifically victimized every single day.

We have to do something to stop this.  Anything we possibly can.  This holiday season (Christmas for our family) I have set out to raise $200 for International Justice Mission.  One of the ways I'm doing this is by having baked 7 batches of my top 5 all-time favorite cookies, dividing it all by ten, and selling ten boxes of about a half-batch's worth of cookies.  My boxes are going out today and my local list serve doesn't allow photographs in posts, so this will also help me advertise these boxes (by posting the link to this entry).  But if you're elsewhere and reading this and you feel inspired to give more this holiday season, to those who need it the most, please consider contributing to my fundraising campaign here:

https://fundraising.ijm.org/campaign/3173/Cookies-for-Justice/

My campaign page also has a video explaining what IJM is all about and how it works.  Please, please watch it!  And be sure to also "like" their Facebook page for updates on what they're accomplishing!

As for the cookies, here are my favorites with links to the recipes (except chocolate chip, which is a matter of personal preference).  Enjoy!

1. Korova (Parisian dark chocolate sea-salt cookies)
2. Peanut Butter Cup Cookies (these are actually quite easy, you just need a mini muffin tin and they pop right out!  Also, I use Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups - WAY easier to unwrap and tastier too)
3. Almond Sugar Cookie Cut-Outs with Cream Cheese Frosting
4. Chewy Spicy Christmas Cookies; and
5. "Life-Changing" Chocolate Chip Cookies

Final product!

Each box actually has two of the tree cookies :)

If you want a tasty, easy recipe for thicker softer sugar-cookies, try this one.

Simply the BEST!

These are so good and SO easy, really!  You just push the PB cups into the hot cookies, let it cool, and they lift right out!

My Humbling Experience Raising a "Challenging" Toddler.

Ouch.  Just typing the title of this entry is a little painful for me.  Not because I'm sad that I have a "challenging" child.  I love every part of my son including his passion and yes, even his strong, strong will (95% of the time).  No, it makes me cringe because I know what so many people are thinking when I say it.  I know, because I had all those thoughts myself before my sweet baby boy turned one year old.

I'd hear the word "challenging" and I'd think "Ugh, more modern-day parents who naively think they can just talk to their child about why something is wrong and presto, the child will never do it again!"  Or I'd think "Oh here we go, another 'feeling-validator.'  If that's not working out for you, maybe you need to try something effective!"  When I'd see kids misbehaving whose parents used the word "Please" ("Please stop that") I'd really roll my eyes.  "Why don't you just tell your kid right up front that behaving is optional, I mean that IS what 'please' means!!!"  And whenever the trying toddler was a boy - which, let's be honest, wasn't infrequent - my judgment was harshest.  "Aaaarrrgh the 'boys-will-be-boys' crowd... perpetuating sexist double standards by letting their boys get away with everything, and raising playground bullies for the rest of us to deal with!"

Yeah.  That was me.  And yeah, obviously I jinxed myself big time.  Parenting is one of those things that really makes you believe in a Higher Power, because it's just a little too fitting that everybody gets their comeuppance, in whatever form(s) it takes.  And if you didn't get it just yet and you're still on your first kid, wait for it... double-whammy headed your way.  In that sense it's very humanizing.  It tears us all down, which pulls us all together.

My comeuppance comes about twice a week these days, down from every single day when he was a one-year old, in the form of a public tantrum.  And by every single day I mean it was every single time we got in the car seat, lots of times when we got out of the car seat, every single time we left every single park, every single time we left the house!  Pediatricians everywhere would have marveled at how long I kept my son rear-facing - I had to because it would have been physically impossible to wrestle him into a front-facing car seat, especially uber-pregnant.  Yup, name any place in town and I've been in the heated center of a huge public scene there ... or fifty.  The playground.  The mall.  The Children's Museum.  The airport.  Panera.  The doctor's office.  The beach - sandiest, most disastrous scene EVER.  The pool.  The post office.  The grocery store.  I am pretty sure the entire town knows my son's name:  "Matthew honey, I'm sorry but we have to go home now.  Matthew, do not run away from Mommy.  Matthew.  Matthew!!!"

Of course there are reasons behind these tantrums.  For one thing, if you've ever met my husband you'll know what I have on my hands here.  Can you imagine commuting 50-90 minutes each way on pubic transit when you're a medical resident working 90-100 hours a week?  Can you imagine a 50 minute bike commute twice a day, year-round in Boston weather?  Can you imagine voluntarily signing up for all that when you used to pay the same in rent but live right next door to the hospital??  The man is unstoppable.  So is his son.

For another thing, my son is tired almost all the time.  He stays up late knowing it increases his chances of seeing daddy, then gets up early when he hears his sister babbling in the living room.  He's excitable and he adores these two... who can regret that?  But it means that by late-morning he's a goner.  He'll nap until after 5:00 if I let him and he is a bear to wake up two hours in, which I try to do.

Yes, there are reasons.  And none of them are the reasons I assumed of so many others in my situation. And for the record, none of them are the other assumption-reasons either.  My son not only isn't "acting out" because we're "not strict enough," but he's also not acting out because we're (a) too strict; (b) spanking him; (c) not spanking him; (d) berating him; or (e) neglecting him.  It's not because I had an epidural folks, or even because we sleep-trained (my mom did too... my brothers and I didn't have these tantrums).  No, it really just is who he is, as a toddler.  I'm thankful for our pediatrician, Co-Chief of Pediatrics at MGH.  He said both his sons were the same as toddlers - that he felt like he'd put in a full day's work with his oldest son before he even walked out the door.  He says there's a whole range of "compliance" in toddlers that results simply from different personalities, all still normal and healthy.  He also said that parents of "less-compliant" ("challenging") toddlers let their toddlers get away with things other parents never would because they're forced to be choosier with their battles.  And that parents with compliant toddlers won't ever understand (read:  Not Judge).  Yeah, I know.  Because if I'd had only compliant children, I'd still be judging.

For the record, because I know I'll get suggestions, I've tried it all - from counting down the minutes to "foreshadowing the day," on and on.  I have had an enormous amount of success with "1-2-3 Magic."  My son hates nothing more than time-outs; his behavioral issues don't involve violence toward other kids or anything other than not getting to do exactly what he wants to do for however long he wants to do it (he does come from two control-freak parents).  The counting has been great because it gives him a structured opportunity to change his behavior before receiving a consequence he really doesn't want.  It has avoided countless meltdowns and it might single-handedly be responsible for taking us from every day episodes to twice a week.  But it only works when my son is still able to logically reason.  Once he's gone, he's gone.

Same for "How to Talk so Kids Will Listen, and Listen So Kids Will Talk."  The first chapter is brilliant.  I think it might actually be all you need... for many other kids and for a significantly happier marriage - seriously.  But for my son, validating his feelings only works once in awhile.  Most of the time I just get a transient pause until he realizes he doesn't care if I empathize or agree with his feelings... he cares that we're still leaving the park.  And he cares about it passionately.  My current M.O. is to start with the feeling validation and when that fails, count.  When that fails, I usually have to manage a way to haul him off against his will because like I said, the problem is usually that he won't leave a place.  When the problem is something else my choices are to (a) "pick my battle" (i.e., ignore behavior that I would prefer he didn't do) or (b) fight my battle, which will mean leaving completely in a big scene and going home.  That, folks, is why you'll see:

(a) My child laying down on the dirty floor while I'm waiting in line for something that needs to be accomplished;

(b) My child playing with the grocery belt divider pole thingey all throughout the store.  For me it's an accomplishment that he now gives it back when we're done;

(c) My child, running all over Panera while I try to bus our dishes;

(d) My child, with crazy-long hair, because I've already tried and failed twice at getting his haircut - not because he's scared, but just because he doesn't want it cut;

(e) My child, doing any number of other things that would cause a lot of people to think I'm a lax mother but don't qualify as "dangerous" or completely disruptive to others.

He refuses to walk to the car with us.   

If we pick him up, he thrashes and yells "I WANT  TO WALK!!!!!!"  As in, the whole way back even if it's many blocks.  If we set him down he throws himself to the ground.  Either way, we look like bad parents.
And when I'm the only parent around, with another baby to transport... disaster!!

Anyway, it's all been hugely humbling.  Until becoming a parent myself, I assumed personality was about 90% nurture, 10% nature... HA.  It's been said that our children teach us more than we ever teach them.  Let me second, and third, and millionth that statement.  I went from judging parents in my situation, to feeling rattled and humiliated daily, to - finally - truly not caring what others thought no matter how big and loud the scene, once I regained confidence in my parenting as the episodes decreased in frequency.  And especially once Matthew's language took off so I could see the loving, sweet, generous, happy, and passionate little boy and big brother he is.  I wouldn't trade him for the world.  And in retrospect, I wouldn't trade the humiliation and failure either.  An ounce of pain is good for a pound of empathy.  And no matter how hard I try, I cannot control and mold every aspect of my life into my definition of "perfection."  I'm rolling with this card, wrestling with it, and just trying to keep in mind that I'll someday long to have all these days back.  Even the very hardest ones.

Loves dandelions.  Melts my heart daily by adoring, playing with, and watching out for his sister (more proof here).
Heart of gold, will of steel.

Update 12/7/13 -
It has come to my attention that people are reading this post and armchair-diagnosing my son with autism, because of my vaccine post.  My son doesn't have autism, but I would love him just the same if he did.  This post represents his difficult stage, 1y3m - 2y2m.  He's a piece of cake now, and SO sweet!  All kids go through more and less challenging phases.  Here's a video of him at 2y8m; he's now 3y3m and hasn't had one of his epic tantrums since he turned 3.  If I had to name the one thing that helped us the most, it was the book "1-2-3 Magic."  But it also just took time, language acquisition, and a less urgent need for naps.

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Sweet Baby Claire

Dearest Claire,

As my mother predicted (and I really tried to deny), I have been unable to keep up with the blogging I did about your older brother, for you.  Finally right as you're turning 9 months, here goes:

Pretty much every day, your father and I marvel that you are the smallest, sweetest, smileyest little creature we could possibly have imagined.  We think of you as a tiny but BRILLIANT ray of sunshine in our family, SO quick not only to smile but to give a grin that's about as big as the rest of your petite body.  Picking you up is pure joy - you feel feather-light and you immediately rest your hands on our chests and arms and cling on with your legs.  And you love to be held.  Whereas your brother was Mr. Independent, you're a Mama's Girl.

You're also a good communicator, which is statistically more likely to be the case for baby girls.  Just before turning 9 months old, you'd managed to (1) cry "Ma-Ma!  Ma-Ma!" a few times and in front of two of my friends; (2) sign "book" for me to read you a book; (3) clap for "more" (but not consistently); (4) wave hello and goodbye (not consistently); (5) independently do the actions on each page of "Pat The Bunny"; and allegedly said "Da-da" to your father once... though nobody else had yet heard that one.  When you were about 8.5 months I asked verbally if you were all done or if you wanted more after nursing, and you clapped your hands for more and then clapped one of your hands against my chest.  Just over the past few days, at 9.5 months, you have your first real word - "Buh" for book, and you also say "Mmmmm!" when I tell you I'm making you your oatmeal.  It has been really, really neat to get glimpses into what's on your mind.  Even more fun to be a lucky recipient of your spontaneous kisses, which one day you even added sound to ("Maah!" - like your brother does).

You are a wonderful little sister.  You love your big brother dearly; he is the only person in the world who can get you to laugh long and hard.  In the mornings, I often have to wake him up because his presence is the only way you'll let me put you down and start getting things ready for the day.  Just the other day (9 months 1 week) he was "bzzz"ing like a bee, and sort of tickling me with his hands to show that there were bees flying around me, and you took your own hands and did the same to him.  You are very alert, very social, and outrageously sweet.  You are such a joy to all of us, it's hard to believe our family ever existed without you in it.  And during the thankfully brief moments during which I did believe you, or at least the you I knew, were no longer with us ... when you had what turned out to be just ("just") a hereditary febrile seizure without any other signs of illness, right after we'd found out your lead level was elevated (turned out not to be, thank goodness) ... all I could think (through my state of shock) was "Oh my God, she's gone, she really was too good to be true."

Other milestones?  Well, you have no teeth, at 9.5 months!  I keep waiting.  You are about 32nd percentile for weight, 60th for height, and with a head in the mid-80's... meaning most of your weight is above your shoulders, and your frame is very petite.  But you are incredibly strong and always have been.  You've been crawling quickly and pulling up for several weeks now, and you already know not to go over the edge when crawling on an elevated surface.  You love it when I hold your hands to practice walking.  And you often crawl around on your hands and feet (rather than knees), downward-dog style.  Your movements seem very graceful to me - just like they seemed on your ultrasound!

Your progression of nicknames is unending and while it will probably serve only to embarrass you, I want to document it because someday it will really bring back memories.  Other than "Baby Claire" and Matthew's old "Bay Claire," we called you "Miss Moo" when you were first born.  This became "Mooster-Meister," then "Moosters Toosters," then, with Matthew's pronounciation, "May-Das-Toos-Toos."  That got shortened to "May-Das" and lengthened to "Baby May-Das."  Yeah.  I'm sure you're thrilled that I wrote all that down.

So far you're not as low-key as your brother was when he was a baby.  You cover your eyes at bath time where it never bothered him.  You started fighting diaper changes at 6 months of age, whereas he started at 10, and you fight them every. single. time.  Of course, it's not a fair comparison since I don't have the luxury of giving you all the uninterrupted naps he got.  And you wake up at 6:00 a.m. or earlier no matter what I do, so I can only imagine you must be tired...

Like your brother before you, you have a lot of energy and are impatient to very eager to get into and explore everything you can.  Until now I chalked him up to "oh I guess boys are different" but it appears it might just be our gene pool.  I'm sure your father's endless energy is well-known to you if you're able to read this.  The three of you may well leave me in the dust someday, a mere mortal surrounded by not just one anymore, and not just two, but three Murakamis.  Heaven help me.

Oh baby Claire.  So very few things in life are as good as we dream them to be, and fewer still are infinitely better, again and again, day after day, in limitless new ways.  But you (and your brother) both are, every single day.  I've wanted a daughter for as long as I can remember, and when I found out I was having one my imagination ran happily, crazily, euphorically wild.  But dreaming of a child before her arrival is sort of like reading about a country versus actually visiting.  You have hazy, blurry images but you can't even begin to fill in the depth and the details.  Now take that joy and raise it to the umpteenth power, as each new age and stage reveals another "you."  I'm sure there will be struggles and frustrations, as come with the territory of parenting.  But hopefully I can keep in mind the words I sing to you each night as we nurse:


"Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine, I'll taste your strawberries I'll drink your sweet wine... A million tomorrows shall all pass away, e'er I forget all the joys that are mine today." 
        - "Today," originally by Randy Sparks.

3 Days Old

6 Weeks Old

3 Months Old

5 months Old

6 Months Old

In Bar Harbor, Maine, 7 Months Old

7 Months Old

9 Months Old

9 Months Old

9 Months Old in our backyard

9 Months Old Kissing Your Brother at Artesani in Brighton, MA

Infectious Joy.

Sibling Revelry.

I often think of life like a deck of cards we've been dealt. I think

• Globally of some pretty darn good cards, like being born healthy in the U.S., to financial security and loving parents.
• Personally to my "won the lottery" cards, when I think about my parents, their marriage, and the family life they gave us growing up.
• Sometimes to my "surprise" cards, like having lived in St. Louis and now in Boston, and managing pretty well as a "medical widow" for 4 years now.
• Often to my "dream come true" cards when I think about the years I spent at Saint Olaf College.
• Occasionally to my "it could be worse but it still sucks" card when I think about a rare and chronic physical ailment I've had since childhood and often can't keep at bay, one that caused (and still sometimes causes) severe pain; and
• At night about those looming, terrible cards that I haven't turned over yet.  The cards that will show me the various heartaches, rejections, and struggles my children will inevitably face.  The cards that will tell me of terminal situations for my parents.  The cards of worse things still that might be lurking in my deck, unknown to me.

Okay sorry that got so dark.  The point is that lately these days, almost every single day, I think about my totally random, it-might-not-last, takes my breath away, holy MOLY card - that of the relationship (thus far) between my two children.

I was prepared for the worst.  As much as *I* felt that Matthew and I were in need of a third companion, I spent a lot of time worrying that it was going to be a disaster for him.  At the time, I was the only parent Matthew saw more than 2-3 times a week (and briefly at that), and I feared that sharing my love would be very hard for him.  I think I cried a little thinking about it during those first few hours of holding Claire ... I felt so guilty that I loved her just as much as I loved him (crazy, but true).  I freaked out when Matthew had a meltdown before we could leave the hospital, imagining that it was because he walked in on me holding Claire in bed - seriously, I almost tried to leave without getting discharged.  And during those first few weeks when the adjustment was rough (Matthew would go to hug Claire, but then squeeze her aggressively) it tore hole after hole in my heart even as I was generally euphoric to be back at home, finally getting to know my baby girl.

Then about a week or so after we got home, my husband - whose uncanny insight into interpersonal relationships often surprises and impresses me, and (along with his cooking skills) has led me to believe that "genius is genius" in all areas of life - did what turned out to be the best thing ever.  Over my protests he kicked me and Matthew out of the house, alone, to get ice cream.  It.  Changed.  Everything.

Since then, with daily exceptions where I have to remind Matthew to be gentle, I have been repeatedly blown away by how much Matthew adores and cares for his sister.  As the days fly by faster and faster I want to make sure that I document what I can of this.  For them, later, and also for me.  So here's the list.  Some of my absolutely most treasured memories, memories that I had absolutely no clue were in my cards.

• The time, when Claire was about 6 weeks old, that Matthew was having one of his truly epic public tantrums.  He was kicking and flailing and I couldn't even contain him and then he threw himself onto the car seat she was sitting in.  Passerby (already staring, of course) gasped and everyone - including me - feared he was about to take his anger out on his sister.  But then something truly miraculous happened.  He looked up, saw her face, and stopped.  He just sort of stopped and leaned on her and started rocking the car seat with his body.  This is a kid who had never, EVER in his LIFE stopped a temper tantrum without being carried not just to the car but all the way to his room to calm down.  A lady said "Wow, he must really love her!"  It was amazing.
• Matthew often trying to lift her arm and saying "So big!"  "So big!"
• Claire at 7 months, giving Matthew her version of kisses.
• Claire hiding shyly by burying her head in Matthew, when talking to a stranger.
• Matthew, barely able to talk, needing two breaths to refer to her for the first few months.  "Bay-Bay.  Kyar."  It was like he had to include her proper title, no matter how laborious.
• Matthew often insisting on having what he has deemed "some TWO baby time!" on the changing table.
• Matthew, trying to sing the dorky theme song I made up for Claire.  "Ooooh Ma-Das-Too-Toos!"
• Matthew, holding Claire's hand in the bike trailer, her leg over his, saying "Baby Claire is your Sister.  Baby Claire is your BESS FWIEND!" (he often says things the way we would say them to him)
• Laughter from the back when Matthew (2.75 years) and Claire (7 months) make each other laugh.  Claire cracking up even though it's otherwise impossible to get her to laugh! 
• Matthew, freaking out at the thought of leaving Claire behind when I sat her on the grass and put him in the car to move it (looooong before she was even remotely mobile).
• Matthew, insisting on riding in the bottom seat with Claire, all the way to and from Starbucks.  Giving her nice touches on her hair.

I'm sure there will be fights and whatnot as they grow older but at least for now, I'm grabbing this unexpected euphoria while I can.  Matthew is a very intense toddler and very passionate about the things he likes, and it's awesome to watch him love her.

Claire 5 weeks, Matthew 2y2m

"Havin' some TWO baby times!"

He used to always try to hang out in her swing(s) with her.

Discovered him sharing his hot cocoa with her on the couch (Claire 2.5 months).

They found their way to my feet as I was cooking dinner.

Love this one.

Discovered him trying to feed her the rest of her bottle after a walk one day.

Morning snuggles.

No Sister Left Behind!

The best way to avoid morning grouchies?  Wake Matthew up by sticking Claire in bed!

Bike trailer buddies.  They held hands back there in Bar Harbor.

He insists on riding in her bottom seat with her now.  Thankfully she still naps, but not as much with him around!

He loves her and he loves his dandelions.  When he loves, he loves.