Happy birthday Jenny. Sunday would have been your 37th birthday: it has only been two years since you died but it feels like a lifetime ago. Before we knew the weight of grief. The heartache of loss. We miss you so much. Marc misses you so much. I remember the first time I heard someone really play the piano after you died. (Someone who played like you.) I couldn’t move. I just sat and sobbed. I forgot pianos could sing without you. Sure, they can be played, but it’s rare to find someone who turns the keys into brush stokes and paints audible paintings that are beautiful to hear. I miss your laugh. You shared it so freely. My heart hurts so much knowing that most of your babies won’t know or remember life with you. Moving to Texas where nobody knows us, no one knows our story, I am so often taken aback by how in telling new friends about our family, you always come up. Losing you has been carved in our heats and we now take you with us everywhere. For the first year or so after you passed whenever your kids met anyone new, in childlike grief and innocence, would introduce themselves like, “Hi, I’m Jane. Did you know my mom died?” And we would smile and cringe a little at how easily that came out; your death now is a critical part of their identity. But it took a move to Texas to teach me, that I am just like them. Your death is now a critical part of my identity too. I am so grateful for forever families, that is what makes it bearable. I love you Jen.

We got everyone up and dressed for church and walked on over to find out there is no church on the 5th Sunday’s of the month.

So we laughed and snapped a quick photo. And walked home to church at home together.

I love it when everyone wants to snuggle up close and be together. (Together without teasing… for however minutes long that will last)

Marc asked for a volunteer for the opening prayer and Hazel most eager jumped up and walked over to the where Marc has put the bread and water for the sacrament. Even after a kind explanation, she was pretty miffed that she didn’t get to bless the bread and sourly said a very short “regular” prayer.

Cosmic Kids is often a morning saving grace- it allows my kids some fun screen time while practicing yoga and learning fantastic real life coping skills and moving their bodies.

Friday morning I realized Levi only had a a few diapers left in his size. (Insert palm to forehead) And the rain had been quite heavy all morning and I didn’t want to have to take my kids. So I was weighing my options and I figured we could probably make do on the few we had and I could run to the store when Marc got home. Then Levi quickly went through two very poopy diapers. My “we can make it,” quickly turned to “Nope, this is not going to work.” Luckily I have kind and awesome friends and neighbors who took my kids and the diaper fiasco of 2020 was avoided (for now, after all it IS 2020)