It all started with a tomato...

It all started with a tomato. Or rather, it began with a description of a tomato. My sixth grade teacher had spent her summer vacation in Italy. When we returned to school in the Fall, we were discussing memorable moments from our summer break and her description of a tomato captivated my imagination.

I don’t recall her exact words now, but whatever she said, a vivid picture was indelibly burned into my brain. I could almost taste it: voluptuous carmine fruit whose delicate skin burst to reveal luscious sun-ripened flesh.

And it was that image that inspired me - eleven years later - to sell almost everything I owned and willingly sign a year-long contract of servitude. When I excitedly told my parents that I was foregoing law-school applications to live in Italy, I will never forget my mom’s reaction – “you’re going half-way around the world to take care of other people’s children?”

Yes. I thought that being an au pair was my ticket to adventure. It was certainly an adventure. But it was, more importantly, an experience that forever altered the trajectory of my life.

Jake, only half-jokingly, says, "I only proposed because you lived in Italy and learned to cook there." Maybe he's not joking at all.

Full Term Folly

Pure hubris, or maybe it was sheer delusion, had me say to my mom just a few days before I went into labor with my first-born: Mom, nature wouldn’t let a woman grow a baby she couldn’t birth!

How wrong I was.

After almost 38 weeks with a belly burgeoning to the point of being unnaturally large – friends teased that they couldn’t believe I could stand upright and my husband toyed with building a counterweight in the form of a backpack – Jake and I headed to the hospital at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Laughter, waiting, sobbing, waiting some more. Listening to Jake count to 10 over a thousand times. Waiting. Phone calls from friends and family. Waiting. Eating ice cubes. Waiting. Anticipation. Agony. Even more waiting. Through a tumultuous and exhausting labor, I went from impatiently reminding nurses, “remember my birth plan?!? I don’t want any drugs! Please read it again” to eagerly accepting morphine to dull the pain of an unexpected c-section. Nineteen hours after we arrived at the hospital, we finally had him, a glowing pink ball with rolls of chub and a full head of soft black hair. It was love at first sight.

And one thing I’ve learned along this journey: whatever you think you know, you don’t.

As Only Siblings Can

Being an only child, the nuances of siblinghood often escape me. There have been many a time when I sit, cross-legged, on the floor, holding my boys as far apart as I possibly can while still having them both in my arms. They are, inevitably, in tears about a misunderstanding that seems ridiculous to me. At times such as those, we wait till Jake comes home with some pearl of wisdom that comes from growing up with two brothers.

I never thought that I missed anything by being an only child. But once I had both boys, I witnessed an amazing connection blossom. And I realized, I did miss something by being sibling-less.

Everyday I watch them interact as only siblings can. They are the best of friends with the ability to antagonize each other like no other. They are protective of each other but know how to press each other's buttons. They play. They fight. They are most genetically similar to each other than any other people. They are brothers.

Indelible Ink: Motherhood Musings that Emerge from the Sleepless Haze

My husband, Jake, and I are parents to two boys a mere eighteen months apart. Motherhood has made edits on my life with indelible ink. I will never be the same.

I recall when I first became a mother, eight year ago now, I quipped that I was blissfully sleepless. 'Blissful' because I was experiencing the unparalleled euphoria that accompanies creating life and getting to know that child a little bit better everyday; 'sleepless' because, well, suffice it to say that whoever coined the phrase 'sleeps like a baby' was obviously never a parent.

And 'sleepless' has continued to be an apt description of my life. Not that I'm an insomniac. I'm not. But I seem to be in a state of constant motion; between Jake, my boys, work, school, life, and fun, there's never a dull moment.

I decided to record some of these stories for my two boys because they never tire of listening to tales about themselves, for myself because years from now I fear that story after story after story will scaffold on top of one another and I will not be able to remember these as clearly as I would like, and for others because I believe it's empowering and reassuring for other moms to know - you are not alone. ~CMM, June 2010