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What He Said

Posted by Monica Edwards Categories: Alijah, Family, Humor, Personal, Tommy


I was reminiscing the other day about Alijah and the cute things he used to do as a baby, then realized that everyday he says something that cracks me up and that I should be writing these things down to look back on with fondness because he is growing so quickly. I thought I would share some of his gems with you…

1. We have two new puppies, a girl and boy, and my 12 year-old is holding the girl and I am holding the boy and he says to me, “Mom, is Zelda a girl?” and I reply “yes, of course” and he says “how can you tell, cause she has one of these like Luigi (pointing to her pee pee as I will refer to it). I reply “yes, she does, but she does not have these” while pointing to Luigi’s scrotum. And he asks “what does he have?” And again, I hold up Luigi and say this time, “she (Zelda), doesn’t have balls…see, Luigi, he has balls>.” To which, Alijah, who I did not know was listening very intently, promptly replies very loudly, “I want balls mama!”

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Blogger Envy

Posted by Monica Edwards Categories: Alijah, Family, Personal, Tommy

Tom and AlijahMy favorite blogger whom I have admitted to being a groupie of, Heather Armstrong of Dooce, writes a newsletter every month for her ‘cute as can be’ three year old daughter Leta. She recounts each past month for her in a way that touches my heart and makes me envious that I do not have the discipline to put down in words the very memories that she is able to;  words that will hold them together as a family forever. Everytime I read one of these newsletters I just want to say to her, wow, you have described the very feelings that I have for my 3 year old.  I did not think such deep emotions could be put into words, but there they are.

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My Mind Won’t Let Me Remember

Posted by Monica Edwards Categories: Family, Personal

The only memory I have of you is so elusive—it feels like a dream I had rather than an actual moment of my life when I knew you as my Mother. It seems like such a silly thing to remember and I ask myself why it is, of all things, my mind chooses to recall this particular instant because it seems so trivial. You were visiting me and my sister, at the orphanage that you made into our new home. You had come and the only thing I recall from that visit, is you getting ready to leave- you gave me some money, a few shiny coins that felt like a treasure in my tiny hands. I don’t remember if I was scared, or sad. Maybe you weren’t visiting, maybe you were leaving us there at that time. It is all a haze to me and I feel so lost like I am spinning out of control trying to relive that fraction of a moment with you. I can’t picture your face, is that awful?
Should I know what you look like? Why did you leave us there? I have so many questions but don’t have the slightest clue as to how to start looking for you. I don’t think I wondered about you as I was growing up, I might have shut that part of my life out of my mind as a preventative measure because I also have a few bad memories of that place you left us in.

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