His name is Henry.

He has downy black hair and round cheeks. He’s warm and soft when he lays on my chest in that floppy way only newborns can. His smell is intoxicating and lovely. He joined us November 6, 2013 at 9:53 pm. 8 lbs. and 2 oz. of perfection.

We are coming together as four. It’s a new era for us and it is wonderful. We are “Somebodies Parents”. There is much more to come. Welcome.

Friday when I was leaving work I was ready to go home and make spaghetti. It was just a night for a big pot of spaghetti. We were going to eat and relax, finally. It was a cool and dreary day that ended a chaotic work week.

I picked up Charlotte from school and we went to Target so she could pick out a birthday present for her friend. I got some hamburger for the sauce. We had noodles at home. Charlotte picked out a Disney Cars book that spouted off sayings of the characters. We loaded up our bags and headed home, hungry for spaghetti. I didn’t let her take the cellophane off of her friend’s book so she just pushed the buttons.

I was listening to her activate the voices of Owen Wilson and Larry The Cable Guy over and over when we got near the local high school. There was a huge line of traffic in the other lane waiting to get to the high school football game. I thought, “Ugh! Remind me not to drive this way on Friday nights.”

When people say it happens fast, that’s an understatement. All I saw was a dark-colored sedan pull out from a side street when they got a break in the traffic. A black bullet of glass and metal that somehow, didn’t hit us. I dodged the bullet by swerving into the grass  on the right hand side of the road. The car ran parallel beside me for a second or two, just long enough to see that he forced me into the side of a fence. My side mirror and fender helped rip the rails of the fence off its posts. It was the side of the car where my sweet baby was reading her book about cars a lot nicer than this one.

He didn’t stop. He saw what he did and drove away. He gunned it after I dodged his first bullet. He left me eight months pregnant on the side of the road with my toddler and broken car. Class act.

I pulled the car to a stop, turned on the hazards and turned to check on her. I said, “Are you okay?” She nodded, looking confused. I asked again, “Are you okay?” My brave girl didn’t cry. She nodded and said, “Yes Mama.”  I told her to keep looking at her book and locked the doors.

I called 911 while walking around my Jeep. A nice eyewitness came running across the street. 911 routed me to State Highway Patrol because for some reason they couldn’t decide whether I was in the city or the county even though I was a block from the city’s largest high school. I told her no one was hurt and I didn’t need an ambulance. I called Greyson. The representative from the homeowners association stopped to survey his fence and give me his information.

The part that pissed me off the most is that it took almost 1/2 an hour for either SHP or the police to get there. Greyson had to call 911 twice more after he pulled up. He and I talked and unwrapped the cellophane on the book. We didn’t think Harrison or Beth Anne would care at that point if the book was slightly used. She was being so good. When Greyson was on the phone with the operator he asked me for her, “Do you need an ambulance?” I said,”Well, if that’s what it takes to get someone out here!” Just then both SHP and the police pulled up only to have a ridiculous conversation as to whom would take over my case. Seriously. I just asked for one of them to please take care of it. It was light when it happened and it was dark by the time law enforcement got to me. Enough said.

I’m blessed enough to work with awesome people, one who lives nearby. I heard my name being yelled across the street and Michelle ran towards me. She grabbed me and hugged me while explained all that happened.

The trooper told me about how he had seen someone run off the road, into a fence, and the fence had impaled them. I thanked him for the reminder that neither me, nor my child was impaled. He then told me it that without a license plate number that it was unlikely that anything would happen to this guy. I started to wonder if the cop would have been as honest. Geez, dude.

After filing the report, Greyson and I collected the remains of my fender and mirror. We held each other on the side of the road for just a second, the hazard lights illuminated his face a moment at a time.  I was so glad he was there. I told him I loved him.

The Jeep was drivable so we took our tired and hungry tot home. She still hadn’t made a peep. She was wonderful and brave. I was so proud. I made spaghetti. There was no way in hell I wasn’t going to eat some damn spaghetti. As I wiped sauce off her face I prayed, thanking God it wasn’t blood. Morbid, I know. I don’t care. It was the best spaghetti I’ve ever eaten.

I’ve been not writing about this for a couple weeks. Finally being able to talk about it makes me so happy! Most of you know I grew up with in a house with one sister. Julie and I are nearly three years apart. Mom asked me one time, “I wonder when Julie and Kevin will have a baby?” I said, “When Charlotte is three.” Mom said, “Why do you say that?” I said, “Because she does everything three years after me.” Mom laughed at my silly generalities.

Before the 4th of July holiday, Julie called me to say she and my brother-in-law were coming to see us in our new house. I said to Greyson, “I was thinking they were going to tell us they’re pregnant, but Julie sounded too perky. She didn’t sound tired enough to be pregnant.” Little did I know, Julie is better at hiding first trimester fatigue and indeed came to announce their big news!

Julie is due January 16. She reminded me these little cousins will be in the same grade in school and just 2 1/2 months apart in age. So fun! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew!

As happy as I am, as happy as I am for Julie and Kevin, I’m most happy for Charlotte. Siblings make us who we are and cousins are part of what makes childhood fun.

Meet my little cousin, Bryan.

He’s the baby of the family. I use the terms “little” and “baby” loosely as this kid is like 6’5” and has to wear at least a size 13 shoe. He graduated high school this week. I’ve been looking at the graduation announcement with his Senior picture on my refrigerator in amazement the last few weeks.

Bryan and I are not particularly close. How could we be? There is a big age gap between the two of us. I am nearly 14 years older than he is and was preparing to go to high school when he was born. I was the first grandchild. He was the ninth. We are the bookends of our generation, just as our mothers were before us.

That’s me on the top row, far right at age 19. I was a sophomore in college. Bryan is the little boy on the floor in the center. He had to be about 5. Yes, we’re wearing matching outfits. Greyson says we look like a cult family in this picture. I keep it up in the house. It makes me smile.

For  me, Bryan has always been a marker of time.

I watched him as a baby through teenage eyes, thinking he was cute, but little else. I rarely thought of anyone but myself as a college student and young adult, so his childhood comes to me in flashes of Christmas presents and brief memories of a little boy playing backyard football. When he was a kid, he always made me laugh because I could tell he could care less about talking to me about anything. He would say things like, “Is Greyson here?” I would laugh and point to Greyson. They could talk sports. I always asked him about dorky stuff like school.

He was always a good kid. As far as I know he never told anyone about the time I was hammered drunk at another cousin’s wedding.  In my stupor I offered Bryan, who was 11 or 12-years-old at the time, a sip of champagne. He turned it down. Like I said, he’s a good kid.

The summer after I graduated high school seems like so long ago. I’m not equipped to give advice. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to take advice from me. I think the journey has changed. It will certainly be different for him than it was for the rest of us. Our little  cousin has a scholarship to play Division I baseball.  Greyson has been watching the College World Series preliminary games all weekend. These guys look like young men, not like my little cousin. It’s amazing to me that next year he will be on the field with them. I speak for the rest of the family when I say we couldn’t be prouder.

I’m not sure he will ever understand what it means for our family to see him graduate and leave home. He is the last, and he has done well.

Congratulations Bryan! I wish you all the joy in the world as you head out into the world. We can’t wait to see what you become.

We’re learning which lightswitch turns the light out and which one grinds up our food scraps. I’ve discovered drawers in the bathroom to stash extra shampoo and the best way to load this dishwasher. We’re going to be naked if the new washer/dryer doesn’t arrive as scheduled on Tuesday. Despite this house being about as “move-in ready” as a house can be, my couches clash with the accent wall in the living room and we spent more than expected changing the locks at Lowe’s. But, I mean, show me someone who doesn’t spend more than they plan to at freakin’ Lowe’s.

I’m having trouble looking away from Pinterest’s endless “Home Decor” category. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment who needs Pinterest to remind me of how much work I have to do and how woefully inadequate my decorating skills are. Yes! I get it Pinterest! Everything at West Elm is amazing, but $45 for a throw pillow is a little more than I want to spend right now.

In other words, we’re settling in.

I have to say, despite the boxes and misplaced serving bowl, it already feels like home. Tonight Charlotte and I built a tower higher than we’ve ever made. I was so proud of her matching the colors of her blocks and her telling me about the animals on each one of them. We’re already making memories.