Saturday, January 18, 2014


I cannot believe my luck with my children. Sometimes I think that every other impossibly painful, hard, suffering thing I've been through since day one has been only so that the sheer weight of my luck as a mother does not topple the centrifugal force of my life. Bullshit! Some live with no ballast for suffering. Still I have a superstitious heart. My children bring me so many levels of emotion that lists of adjectives and nouns spring to mind:

The day to day frustrations have never- not once- been even one fifth of the goodness their four selves bring. Not even the years of DWE between ages 15-17 that aged Mr. Curry and I years. Not even the dark days of hospitalization with Ever or the months afterward listening to her breathe, giving treatments, waking every hour, fearing- nothing can alter what has been given. Two boys, and two girls. I was rewarded by the fates for not caring if I had a girl by receiving two. Bullshit! Still I have a superstitious heart. Four human beings completely different from one another, four people that I get to know deeply and intimately for the entirety of my life! Four people, each I watch in fascination to see what they choose and who they become. Four voices we waited to hear, four gaits we watched with hands ready to catch, four eye colors we debated, four laughs that were music to our ears. Four temperaments, four ways of arguing, four ways of pissing me off. Four different kinds of late night talks but so very much the same. Four sets of arms around my neck, four first four letter words, four stockings at Christmas. Four different colors of hair! Brown, bright blonde, dark blonde, dirty blonde. Four first gone teeth, four breastfed babies, four co-sleepers. Four dog lovers. Four kinds of music: metal ( Ian ) pop ( Lola ) rock/rap ( Dakota ) Christmas carols ( Ever ) Four ways of telling me they won't do what I'm asking. Four ways of telling me they love me. Four ways of putting off chores. Four messy beds. Four to bring in a noisy circle to Starbucks in the morning. Four ways of crying and four kinds of sleepers: heavy ( Ian ) sleep walker ( Dakota ) thrasher ( Lola ) never ( Ever )

Knowing them and loving them is the central fact of my life and will be, for me, ever the most meaningful, beautiful thing that I have done in this life. The emotional and yes, intellectual riches that knowing these four people brings only grows every year. Like the best of novels, they are complicated, diverse, interesting, frustrating, at times overwhelming and always rich with character and plot. 

There's a quote Mr. Curry says to me often, that his favorite author, Robert B Parker, wrote in the introduction of his novel: ' You may have been a pain, but you've never been a bore ' and we could say the same for our children. I adore the feeling that these four lives swirling around me brings- the opposite of boredom, the opposite of emptiness. The fullest love.

Four is my favorite number.

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