The Story of Avery...

This is the tale of how The One Who Knows Everything came to be....

Late November, 1998. We had just lived through one of the worst days of our lives...we had survived the funeral of our first born son.

Jake and I had decided that we needed some time. We weren't exactly ready for parenthood when Joey came along. We were young...I was just 21 and Jake was 22. We decided that we needed to spend some time together, just he and I. Enjoy being newlyweds, travel, relax and regroup after the grueling year we'd had.

After the funeral, I slept for a week. When I say that...I mean it. I actually slept for a week straight. The days were so painful and I desperately tried to keep myself busy to keep my mind off of Joey. Keeping busy turned out to be nearly impossible. I was a stay-at-home mom...without my child.

The house was eerily quiet. There were no diapers to change...no bottles to warm...no cherub face to wake up to every morning. I mean...Jake is a handsome man...but cherub faced, he is not!!! It dawned on me one day...

The day that you become a mother...the day that precious bundle is placed in your arms...you tell yourself that you will be a mother forever. Until the day you die...you will mother this child. You do not allow yourself to even consider the thought of outliving this child...of losing the one who made you a mother.

I found myself, all of a sudden...not a mother anymore. It was sickening, sad and unnatural. I told Jake that I had to be a mom again. I couldn't wait...I couldn't busy myself with travel or a job. I could not "be" until I was a mother again. Jake could see the pain I was in and even though he really wanted to wait...he knew the maternal pull I was feeling was not to be ingored. Avery was conceived just 4 weeks after Joey died.

So, Avery...our smart, honest, LOUD, cautious, obedient, handsome Avery...our leader...the one who will do amazing things in his life...you were conceived out of longing and compassion...fear and sadness...but most of all, the undying love a mother has for her child. You resurrected me...you gave me hope and a reason to live.

The Story of Jack...

This is the tale of how The One Who Gets Away With Murder came to be.

A little after Lily's 1st birthday in October, I started to get the itch...again. Jake knew the look and he knew it all too well. Something about that 1st birthday party always reminded me that the little one was growing up...it would trigger my arms to ache for the feeling of a cradled newborn in my arms...and even to start that crazy first year over again. No...I'm not a sadist...I just have a thing for those tiny little bundles who smile at everything, laugh until they cry and fall asleep wherever they are...as long as it's in their Mommy's arms.

So, the look...Jake responded with a booming, "HELL TO NIZ-O!" He adamently refused to have another baby. Our first born was a tragedy...we managed to have two healthy little boogers...and a boy and a girl, to boot. He was ready to fold his hand, cash in his chips, and head for the hills. I wasn't going to give in that easily...I had always wanted 3 kids...I had always wanted the choreographed chaos of a bigger family.

I decided that if Jake didn't want anymore children...then HE could take care of birth control. I had been on the pill since I was 16 and was tired of taking them everyday and was eager to see what I was like without the daily dose of hormones! Jake was not impressed with my idea. But...I told him that it was his turn.

So, to my surprise, he decided to call my bluff. He made an appointment for a consultation for a vasectomy. I went with him...I was not going to miss this. The doctor took us to the room where the procedure would be performed...now remember...we're talking about a little in-office procedure...NOT surgery. Not a surgery like the 3 cesarean sections that I endured to birth his 3 children! No scalpels slicing 6 inch incisions into his abdomen...no doctors thrusting their arms elbow deep into his belly...no nurse sitting on top of his chest trying to push a 9 pound baby down and out through a hole that seemed way too small...no catheters, no stool softeners, no bleeding, no staples, no sore nipples...none of it. Just a simple little ole procedure...a little snip-snip, if you will.

Now...I knew the look that came over Jake's face when he was hit with the cold sterility of the procedure room. He turned white as a sheet and started swallowing a little harder...clenched his knees together and his voice raised an octive, or two. He managed to set up an apointment for December 11th...then ran as fast as he could out of the office. I was starting to think he might go through with it.

Over the next few weeks, I threw in a few last ditch efforts to change his mind. Turns out...they either worked, or were never needed. Just 5 days before the scheduled procedure...Jake called and cancelled and came home with a big ole box of condoms! While some would see this as a man planning on using birth control...I saw this as a ray of hope. Anyone who's had sex with a man knows how bad he hates condoms...even if that thin sheath of latex is the only thing standing in the way of another mouth to feed.

I'll spare you these details...but one drunken night of passion and 7 days later...Jack was conceived! So, Jack...you are the product of compromise, negotiation, perseverance, stubborness, sacrifice, and unfortunately, an evil scheme plotted by your mother...your father's fear of needles...a few too many shots of Patron...your fathers disdain for condoms...oh, and, of course, the love that we share!

Doesn't matter which way you cut it...we got Jack...sweet, crazy, wild, fearless, funny, adorable, brown-curly locked, big blue-eyed, determined, strong-willed, so much fun to have around...Jack!! I can't imagine our lives without him!!!

Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy

OK...Avery is 8 and last Christmas he was very suspicious of Santa Claus. Not quite believing that a fat man in fur slips down the chimney in the middle of the night and leaves them presents...he was on to us! So this year we decided that we should probably explain about the spirit of Christmas...yada, yada, yada and tell him that the whole Santa thing was all a hoax, but please don't tell his brother and sister.

Last week he is riding his Razor motorcycle with his helmet that Santa brought him a few years ago and he comes in to say.."Mom..Santa didn't bring this helmet..you and Dad bought it, look, the price tag is still on it!" What losers we are to leave the price tag on, right? So, not wanting to bold face lie, I said that Santa probably can't make helmets and maybe he got it at a store. I could tell by the look on Avery's face...he wasn't buying it. He says "Mom, Santa doesn't have any money...he couldn't buy it." I'm thinking...my boy is growing up...he's too logical and smart for fairy tales and make believe...the magic of his childhood is coming to and end. Just when I'm preparing to break the news to him...his eyes light up. This is what he says..."Oohhhhh...I know Mom...the Tooth Fairy bought it for him...she's LOADED!!"

So, the magic lives on and this Christmas Avery may copy the Tooth Fairy on his letter to Santa!