Marching to the beat of a different mandolin

My dear little love, Trevor, you have made it around the sun for the first time! The cliche about not being able to believe how fast babies grow up is a cliche because it is universally true. Seriously, you've more than doubled (tripled! nearly quadrupled!) in size since you made your first appearance. My phone background is a precious snapshot of you at about three or four weeks old, but that's hardly even you anymore! You would hulk right out of that onesie that was big and baggy on you in the photo. You hulk right out of a lot of things. You're a big, strong kid already. Good thing you've got strong parents!

Here are some of my favorite memories from my first year of knowing you:

December 18th, 2016: I got word early in the day that your mom had started labor. I was already very impatient for this announcement, as we'd been expecting you about two weeks prior. I was promised regular updates as the day progressed, but I got frustratingly little in the way of news. I checked my phone constantly for information, and finally got the word that you'd made your arrival and everyone was well. Pictures soon followed and I was filled with joy. I would have to wait a few weeks to meet you, but I hounded your mom for photos and updates every day. I wanted to know all there was to know about you.

Early January, 2017: I took the train up to Vancouver, where you and your mom picked me up at the station. You were snoozing in the back of the car and I was so anxious to get home where I could hold you and cuddle you. I remember you being pretty chill. You let me hold you without too much fuss, or if there was fuss, I've forgotten it. Your mom showed me how to change your cloth diapers, and I tried to help as much as I could, but I may have been more in the way than helping. It's the thought that counts, right? Your poops were no big deal in the days before solid food, so I could volunteer to assist without much concern. (This will become relevant later.)

We took you on walks in your icy Vancouver neighborhood. You enjoyed the stroller. At home, you would relax in the stroller in the front hall until hunger or diaper discomfort struck, at which point you'd let us know it was time to mobilize. You didn't do a whole lot yet, but you looked cute in all your outfits and I delighted in spending time with you that week.

April: You got to spend a couple months in Charlottesville with your parents and grandparents, thanks to Canada's progressive parental leave policies. I took advantage of my own flexible "work" schedule to fly out and visit while you were there. Your whole family was around, and lots of extended family met you for the first time then, too. Your Grandmom is great at innovating toys out of whatever is in the house, and she had you practicing your percussion skills on some plastic containers, which you enjoyed very much. Walking remained one of your favorite things, and I enjoyed circling the neighborhood with you in your stroller, and sometimes carrying you. I appreciated that you didn't have too much stranger danger with me, and let me snuggle you lots.

May: In May, your Granddad George passed away. We were all very sad and miss him very much. It really put in perspective just how special those previous two months in Charlottesville were. Thank goodness for that Canadian parental leave policy! We are so glad that George got to spend some of his final months with his grandbaby. He loved you so much, Trev. You are going to hear a lot about George as you grow up. He was a special guy, and I'm sure you'll be a lot like him in a lot of ways. He had a rapidly progressing Alzheimer's case, and maybe it's best that you won't remember him like that. Instead, you'll learn who he was through everyone's favorite stories of what he was like before his illness. He was super smart. He loved to work puzzles and play games. He and my mom were bridge partners. Your mom and dad don't play bridge (yet?), but I would LOVE it if you'd like to learn. I'll play with you any time.

We all flew back to Charlottesville to take care of arrangements and to celebrate George's life. It was nice to get to spend some more time with you. Because your parents and grandparents were so busy, I got the job of holding you for a lot of the memorial service. I was so proud to take you around and introduce you to your granddad's friends and family, and tell them about you :) I tend to cry a lot at events like this, and getting to hold you was a real comfort for me. I know you were a real comfort for a lot of people in that sad time. It's impossible to be all the way sad when there's such a great baby around. You met some other babies whom I'm sure you'll get to know much better over the next few years. You're one of the first kids born in several of your parents' main social groups. That's going to give you a real position of power in future years, when everybody's getting together, and you're the oldest kid. I wielded this power myself, growing up with a bunch of kids in Squirrel Ridge. You'll get to pick most of the games you play, and also win most of them. But you'll also be responsible for making sure the youngest kids don't get left out or get their feelings hurt. So don't let the power go to your head. You need to be magnanimous. You don't want to be the reason other kids run crying to their parents. (Here is where I apologize to your mom for all the times I was shitty to her when we were kids. I did not always handle oldestness gracefully. Be better than that.)

July: For your dad's birthday, your mom got tickets to a beer festival in Vancouver. That meant they'd need an all-day babysitter. Toby and I volunteered for this task. Toby was long past due for meeting you, and we were honored to have the responsibility of one of your first stretches of time without either parent. Now, here comes a story I have since told hundreds of times, and will tell thousands of times more in my lifetime. It is my favorite story. It includes one of the proudest moments of my life. Here it is:

We arrived by train late Friday night. Your mom picked us up and said "I have to warn you of something. Trevor hasn't pooped since Sunday." That's FIVE days by this point. We were going to be on our own with you for most of Saturday. Seven months old now, you'd been eating solid foods for a few weeks, and your shit had gotten more intense...until it stopped altogether. Your parents had already taken you to the doctor, and they were trying all sorts of things to get you unclogged. Every time you farted, we thought "Is this the big one?" because your farts were passing through nearly a week's worth of poo, and each one smelled like armageddon. But by the time your parents set off for the beer fest, you'd been six days shitless. I knew our chances were good. You had to be nearly bursting by this point, and I have this knack for making constipated babies unload. Also, Murphy's Law, right? Of course it was going to happen while I was in charge.

The morning went just fine. We walked around the neighborhood with you in your stroller. You took a quick nap -- for a while, you'd been kind of a bad napper. 20 minutes here, 15 minutes there...we didn't expect to be able to put you down for long. We picked up some lunch and brought it back to the apartment. We put you in your bouncy seat while we ate. You were kind of outgrowing it, and your parents warned that you'd probably only be happy in it for a few minutes before starting to scream, so we knew we'd need to eat quickly. We scarfed down our food, and I gave Toby a choice: would you like to handle the dishes or the baby? He chose the dishes, and that was the right choice. When I reached into the seat to pick you up, my hands felt something wet...and squishy. The moment of truth was upon us.

I called for backup as I raced you to the changing table. Shit was literally -- actually literally -- all over you. You had overpowered your diaper so thoroughly that the shit had made it into your hair and up over the curve of your skull. It had burst forth through every possible opening, coating your back, tummy, and legs in brown death.

Now, hindsight is 20/20, and if I had it all to do again, I'd have taken you straight to the shower and gotten in with you. The tried and true hose-down method. But I'm not a mom and I don't face shituations like this on the regular. I was in panic mode, and all I could think to do was to attack the problem one pathetically undersized baby wipe at a time. Toby heroically maneuvered the annihilated bouncy seat into a quarantine bag, and brought me the diaper genie before he snapped, running into the living room with his hands over his ears shouting "THIS IS WHY YOU ALWAYS WEAR A CONDOM!" It wasn't the poop that bothered him as much as your wailing while I tried to clean you up. Perhaps you were trying to tell me with words you didn't yet know that I was handling things horribly inefficiently. You were communicating loudly, but not clearly. So I kept at it with the wipes, until eventually, you were clean enough for fresh clothes. This was about 20 minutes after the initial alarm sounded.

There was still the issue of your hair, though. I took you to the kitchen sink, where I held you and Toby used the spray nozzle to get the fecal matter out of your hair. You didn't seem too bothered by this part of the process. You weren't naked anymore, and you had a clean diaper and empty intestine.

When the cleanup was done -- or so I thought -- we took you to the floor to do some playing. But every time you moved, I found another poo exclave. Ten wipes later, I was finally satisfied that you were clean. But I was exhausted. You weren't interested in playing. I took you into your parents' bedroom, laid down on the bed with you on my tummy, and we both fell asleep. Remember how all your naps previously had been in the 20-minute range? You snoozed for more than two hours with me that afternoon. We'd both worked very hard.

Was I upset that I had to deal with this literal shitstorm? Nah. It's a point of pride for me. I *handled* it. For the first time ever in my relationship with Toby, I kept my cool when he did not. I earned an Aunting merit badge that day that will forever link us in ways that run deeper than your average aunt-nephew bond. It's a trump card I can play whenever I want, not just against you, but against your parents as well. "Remember that time I dealt with your kid's six-day explosion while you were out partying? Yeah, we're doing what I want for dinner." And honestly, I think it's hilarious. In the moment, it 100% sucked, but now that I'm on the other side, I'm glad we shared this, Trevor. Of all the people in your life, there's no one who would enjoy this story more than I do. I'd honestly have been disappointed if you'd held it in until after my visit. I'd have felt like a failure. As it is, I'm a goddamn hero. So thanks for giving me that part to play.

September: In September, your dad got a job offer in North Carolina, and your parents had to decide between staying in Vancouver and moving back to the US, to a red state. It is my deepest wish that when you are old enough to read this review, you won't comprehend what a big deal the whole red state/blue state thing is. But in 2017, the idea of leaving the land of socialized healthcare for a red state under the Drumpf administration -- you'd have to have a REALLY good reason to want to do that. And your parents did. They had a lot of good reasons. Almost all of your family would be much closer. Your mom would have more flexibility in her career, and by extension, you'd probably have more opportunities in your childhood. I was SUPER bummed that they chose to move so far away from where I live, but I do think they made a good choice. I know the rest of your family is very happy to have you so close. And I'll fly out to see you as much as I can. It's not like adding 2500 miles to the length of my trip is going to dissuade me from coming to visit. Pssh.

October: You moved to Durham, and I came to stay with you for a few days. The house is big, your neighborhood is beautiful, and there's a lot of really great stuff nearby. I hate to admit it, but Durham might be a really wonderful place for you to grow up.

You were 10 months old by this visit, and your personality is really starting to show. You love moving. You're great at crawling and scooting, and you can walk with a little bit of support. You'll be taking your first real steps soon, I'm sure. You REALLY love food. You do this hilarious thing when your parents are preparing your food for you -- they'll have it in front of themselves, cutting it up into small enough pieces for you, and you'll be impatient for it, and you'll growl/scream for it. It's so intense. Like you're trying to use noise and intimidation to get that food straight into your mouth. You're not using words yet, but your intent is crystal clear. This is probably my favorite thing that you do, because it's so funny. Probably not socially acceptable for you to continue much longer, and I doubt I'll find it cute when you're 12. But at 10 months? The best.

November: I got to see you again at Thanksgiving. You're getting a lot of wear out of the kilt that we brought back for you from Scotland. I wonder if you'll willingly wear one when you're old enough to have a say about such things. But you look darling in your baby kilt, and I'll be sad to see you outgrow it. Speaking of growing, you are a hoss now. Carrying you for more than a few moments is legitimately hard work. You're less psyched about people who aren't your parents holding you now, too. You let me get in a few good snuggles, but mostly you wanted to hang onto your mom. There were lots of people doting on you, and even though it was overwhelming, you showed them your cutest self. All the Massies and Elders consider you one of their own, just like I do. You've got this huge extended family there, and they love you SO MUCH.

I will see you next in December, when Toby and I come home for Christmas. I can't wait to introduce you to my nieces and to Toby's mum. (That's the British word for "mom." Oh shit, please don't develop a North Carolina accent! I'll still love you if you do...but remember, you're CANADIAN!) I know you met Bess and Frankie briefly in April, but it will be good for all you "cousins" to have some real time together this holiday season.

Trevor, I love you so much. I'm so happy you are my nephew! I miss you all the time I'm not with you, and I think about you every day. I look forward to what milestones and bloopers your second year holds, and I hope I'll get to witness lots of them in person. Happy birthday, darling!

Today is my niece Bess's 5th birthday. So much in my life and in the world has changed in 5 years; it makes it seem like Bess has always been here. But at the same time, I think, wow, my baby niece is 5!

There were things I really thought would be different about the world when you turned five. You're at the age where your memories will last you into adulthood, and I really hoped your early memories would be of growing up in a progressive era. Born under the first black president, growing up under the first female president. You wouldn't have to look hard to find great role models for anything you want to be. Instead, we've unleashed some of the worst of our country, and I'm sorry you're seeing it now. We should've been past this long before you were born; you should never have to see someone who allegedly represents you on a podium, speaking to the whole world, and saying such disgusting things. I know it doesn't really matter a lot to you now, but I'm still sad that your childhood will have this in it. I'm confident, though, that you still have plenty of places to look for your role models, and you will find the good ones.

Bess, you still have those big inquisitive eyes and long, thick eyelashes you were born with. When you are an adult, you may harness them to launch 1000 ships. Right now, they work in your favor more than you know. You do have that "look at me, I'm so sweet" pose down. You're just being silly when you do it, but one day you will learn to really harness the power. Please use it for good.

You may not like that you're still the baby, even though you're growing up. But as a 33-year-old baby, I can tell you that it's worth embracing. I love you, baby girl.

Yesterday was quite a lovely birthday indeed. We hiked in a place I'd never been, called Sauvie Island. I love how Portland is this big city with big city things and then you can go just a few minutes outside of downtown and suddenly you're deep in the woods. It's one of my many favorite things about living here. The hike is along the Columbia River to a lighthouse, a 7-mile round trip, which I guess I should call a walk rather than hike, because being at the river's edge, there wasn't much in the way of elevation gain. There were lots of beaches (including a nude one I didn't know existed). The concept of a river beach was foreign to me before moving out here. There might be a few sandy spots along the James or Rivanna, but they're not recreation spots at all. These were real, large sandy beaches, complete with families on beach towels and kids playing in the (bitterly cold snow-melt!!) water. We saw a sea lion frolicking, some bald eagles, and also a dead mole. One of these was less exciting than the other two.

Back home, we had a brief siesta where I had some time to Skype with Lucy and Frankie. Lucy said she just finished writing a report about Granddaddy (my dad) for a school project. I really hope I get to read it. When I asked what she wrote about, she said "EVERYTHING!" and then specified "and that time he was on a date with Nana and they were playing tennis and he split his pants!" Ha! I didn't know that story...but I'm glad it made it into her school report! People reassembled at my place at 6ish, and we played board games and ate yummy things until we were all tuckered out. Today I'm lounging in bed until something forces me up. That will probably be when Katy and her friend get here. I told her I'd spend the day with her and take her downtown. It should be fun.

I'd like to take a moment to clarify some family dynamics that I write about, which may be a little confusing. I am the baby of my family, but I have a little sister. Little sister is Emily, who is actually not a relative, but my neighbor since she was born until we went on to college. She's a year younger than I am, and we have been inseparable for our entire lives. She is a part of my family and I hers, and it feels like I'm underselling our relationship when I refer to her only as "best friend." She is my sister. We just have different parents and DNA and all that.

My husband McKenzie is an only child, but he has a little sister, too. Sort of. He has a cousin (first cousin once removed, actually, his first cousin's daughter) who has had kind of a tumultuous childhood, to say the least. My in-laws have been the only family that have really been there for her, and two years ago, they became her legal guardians. Katy is 16 now, and I really enjoy spending time with her. She's a great kid and I love her to pieces. I just try to be a safe place for her. So she's my little sister-in-law, and we're hanging out later today.

Anyway. 30. For all the time I spent thinking about it before the actual day, it hasn't really hit me yet that it's actually come to pass. Maybe there's nothing to hit me, and the big secret is that nothing changes at all. I've never put much stock in arbitrary dates on the calendar having real meaning or power, but I have always felt a little special in spite of my own philosophies on my birthdays. Yesterday was lovely, but more than any other birthday before it, it felt like just another day, even though I had special events with friends going on all day. I just expected maybe to feel something about this decade marker, but I think I've actually been feeling it since I turned 29. I've spent the last year so aware that my 20's were coming to an end that I must have numbed myself to the impact of 30 already. Or maybe there is no impact. I'm still exactly who I was on April 26th, it turns out. And thank FSM I'm not who I was when I was 25. I think my 30's are going to be great.

I'm a couple weeks behind schedule here, and I'm very sorry about that, but since you probably won't read this until years down the road if ever at all, I'm going to give myself a pass on the lateness. Apologies, though.

Happy ninth birthday, Lucy! This year has been my favorite year of being your aunt, because I got to spend more time with you than I ever really had before, and I got to witness some things that made me so proud of the young person you are. I happened to be in New York the week that you hosted your 8th birthday party, and you invited me to come along and help your parents. I was delighted to be included, and enjoyed playing and celebrating with you. That year, you told your friends not to bring presents, but instead to bring books that you would donate. You have done things like this before, as well, asking for donations for the less fortunate instead of toys and gifts. I am SO PROUD of you for this. I'm almost 30 and I still love birthday presents and get excited about them. When I was in elementary school, if you'd suggested that I sacrifice birthday presents, I would not have taken that well. I love what a generous heart you have. That also makes you a wonderful big sister.

You are so good with Frankie and Bess, and they are so lucky to have you. You and Frankie fight sometimes, but that's pretty normal, and most of the time you love each other to bits. One time when I was visiting last year, the two of you were fighting over a dressup outfit that you both wanted to wear. Rachel was busy breastfeeding Bess, and William wasn't home, so it was up to me to be the adult in the situation. I've never been the position of authority between a children's screaming match, and I was honestly shaking in my boots a little as I walked to deal with you two. It wasn't so bad, though. I just reminded you that time is a thing that exists on a continuum, and if one of you wears the tutu now, the other one can wear it later, and everyone settled down. But it made me tense and worried to have been in the middle of your fight, and so when I heard Frankie scream a few minutes later, I was really concerned there was another storm brewing. I ran over to see what had happened, and you had accidentally knocked her over. You helped her up and gave her a hug and said you were sorry. I braced for her to lash out, but instead she just sniffed, "That's okay Lucy, but it did really hurt." I can't really explain just how precious that interaction was, but it demonstrated the way you guys care about each other so much. A lot of kids your age are too proud to apologize or admit accidents, and might just yell back at their kid siblings in such a situation. But you deescalated what I was afraid was going to get very ugly, and it actually turned out to be one of the sweetest moments I've seen. It may not seem like a big deal, but to me, it spoke volumes about your character, and your love for your sister.

During that visit last spring, William arranged for me to spend the day with you, just the two of us, which we'd never done before. You needed more clothes for your Brooklyn collection, and I was super happy to take you shopping. I couldn't help myself -- I bought you everything you wanted and then some. You totally roped me in by complimenting my taste. When you said the things I was picking out for you were cool, I would have bought you the whole freaking store. Don't get used to that, though...I really can't afford it. Still, going broke on that shopping trip with you was the best part of my visit. We also went to see "The Lorax" together, just you and me. What a great movie! I loved it, and I'm glad you loved it, too. We walked home singing the song from the end credits together. "Let it grow...let it grow..." I still listen to that song frequently and I always think of you when I hear it.

We got to hang out some more over the summer on our family vacation in Williamsburg. We spent lots of time together at the theme parks, riding roller coasters and water slides. You are by far the most daring one in the family! You had to talk Uncle A and me into joining you on some of the more insane water slides, but even though I was kind of terrified, I couldn't skip out on the opportunity to share these experiences with you. Your smile was so big! I loved being part of your great time. My favorite memory from that trip was the night we went to Busch Gardens to see the fireworks show. We were riding the swings when they started, and you and Frankie both lit up with amazement as we twirled around in the air and fireworks burst above us. It was one of those moments that just feels completely perfect, and sharing that with you and the rest of our family was so great. I may have cried a little.

You're getting really into history lately. You told me you love all the presidents. I asked if that included George W. Bush. "Oh, well, no, not him." Atta girl. You read a lot and love to play games and perform for others. You have a beautifully creative mind, and you have entertained me a lot over the years.

I was sharing some of our family history with you, and when I told you that your great-grandfather was one of 15 kids, you said that you wanted to be one of 15. I don't think your parents are on board for that, but you said if they won't have 12 more kids, then I should have them so you could have 12 cousins. You said I'd be a great mom. I may have cried again. I don't really plan to do the mom thing, but I love being an aunt so much, and I'm so honored that you think I'd make a good mom. If anyone could talk me into it, it's you, but please don't...

I don't have as many photos of you online as I would like, but I have your school picture and a picture of us on Apollo's Chariot with Uncle A pinned to the wall in my office, along with a picture you drew for me. I look at you and smile several times a day. I love you!

I am full of ideas today.  Here's one I want all my friends in on.

I turn 30 exactly 8 months from today.  I don't really have a before-I'm-30 to-do list, but eight months out is kind of the perfect amount of time for me to gear up and train for a half marathon.  So I'm making that my one-item checklist for the end of my 20's.  I looked for races near here around that time, and there are none that work for me, but then I got to thinking, I could make a destination birthday party out of it.  Many of my friends are runners who are happy to travel, and my friends who are not runners would certainly be welcome for the trip as well, on the condition that you stand somewhere along the course and cheer for me and tell me how awesome I am when I finish, and more than likely feel like shit.  30-year-old shit.

So I looked at some race calendars and specifically searched for flat half marathons in temperate climates, and I've narrowed it down to either Nashville on my actual birthday (April 27) or Santa Cruz a few weeks prior.  I'm actually leaning toward Santa Cruz, 'cause it's easier for me to get to, and it's BEFORE Gatlinburg, which will surely be a difficult time for me to keep up with my training.  Also it's on the motherfucking ocean.  Seems like a winner to me.  A very nice number of my friends have already chimed in that they're interested, and I want to reiterate that participation in the race is not a mandatory part of this celebration.  If enough people commit, I think we should rent a house on the beach for the weekend and make a whole thing of it.  So if you want to be a part of it, I hope you will be.  Consider this an open invitation.  I'm pretty sure all the people I dislike also dislike me, so I'm not at all worried about some a-hole crashing my party when I really don't want them to.  So, yes, YOU.  You are invited.  I hope you'll consider it :)  I'm turning 30 motherfucking years old.  And you know what?  I'm going to be in better shape than I was at 20.  Maybe when I'm 40 we'll do a marathon.