Hi Mr. Blog,
Wow it is so quiet.
Teddy and Troy just jumped on the bus
to go to downtown Seattle to the Folk Life Festival.
I asked Troy if I could go with them but he said no.
I'm just so thrilled they went together.
And probably Car too.
Safety in numbers and all that.
I know usually I come to you with everything
I've done wrong
but today I want to tell you about one of the
few things that I did right.
I tortured my son.
AND myself.
When Teddy was born
Troy was two and a half.
After we got Teddy in the house,
Troy was furious.
He shouted at me,
"Take it back!"
He had such perfect elocution
even as a toddler if you can believe that.
He hated Teddy
and I can see why.
Here I was thinking Troy was the cutest
little blue-eyed blond baby in history,
and dying for another one exactly the same,
when Teddy showed up.
I nearly died
in the hospital
from love
when I looked in his little eyes.
My eyes.
My mom's eyes.
My grandmother's eyes.
So it would be darn tough not to love him too much.
I knew by then that I was close to ruining Troy
by loving him too much.
My Auntie Jean warned me.
She said she and Uncle Frank did it with my cousin Carolyn.
So once I got over the shock of having two babies
I knew I had one long row to hoe.
My nickname growing up was Stupid.
Or Tag-a-Long.
I was the most annoying little sister in the world.
Still am.
Can't help it.
But I just couldn't stand the thought of my sons being enemies.
I know some adult brothers that are.
So, for the next six years I fought the exhaustion
and put Troy in time out
whenever he popped Teddy upside the head
or called him a name.
I think Troy spent 90%
of his childhood in time out
and I nearly had a nervous breakdown.
But you know what Mr. Blog?
IT WAS WORTH IT.
Even if I'm a tired old-choker mom
with teenagers under my feet all the time.
I would have done the same thing if I had to do it again.
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