Summer 2009

It's summer now, and after weeks of rain the Atlanta sun is on steaming the hell out of everything.

The husband had sinus surgery just before Memorial Day weekend, and spends most of his days fighting horrible headaches as he heals up. The doctors went in and also re-arranged the bones of his skull around his nose, correcting a deviated septum. After observing the pain and discomfort of healing, neither of us can believe that people elect to have nose jobs voluntarily. He still has plastic plates up in there, holding things together until the bone mends. This causes a whistle at night while he rests, and sometimes I have to sleep in our spare room. We're both impatient for him to feel better, to mend, but we knew going in that he would have a long, slow recovery. That's why he took the summer off from law school.

The girls are growing just fine; Dot jumps around and makes up stories and pretends to cook. Diana is walking now, and beginning to speak. They both have Winn's skin coloring, blue eyes and light brown hair, but that's where all similarity ends. Dot eyes are almond shaped and her hair straight. Diana's eyes are big and round and her hair curls in fat baby ringlets. The girls keep us running all weekend, every weekend. They are bundles of energy that left undirected would be incredibly destructive.

We visit museums, we visit parks, we visit the library. We pretend picnics, we feed the stuffed animals, we read stories. We collapse at night on weekdays, and on weekends raise our fists in silent joyous triumph after they're in bed by 8:30. I can't believe I ever thought I would be able to do this on my own.

Even with two active parents, I still sometimes need help; thank goodness we chose Tony and Andrew as godparents. Seriously, without them, the house would at times cease to function. Andrew was there to pick up Winn from surgery, and they've picked up the girls or babysat on the spot a great number of times.

This is all I can think of to wrote about tonight. I'm trying to get back nto the habit, and it isn't easy. Things might be rather bland over here until I can regain my knack. I suppose at this point I'm really writing for myself now, a kind of public diary I use for reference.