The night Six was born, I hummed through labor. It was a single note with each contraction, in the same key. I wondered what note it was. Not long before, I’d heard a piece on NPR about the note nature hums in, and it was B flat. Could it be that I was humming with the universe without even knowing it? At some point, I was able to ask the Chaplain, who has perfect pitch, what key I was humming in.
It was B flat. The note that excites alligators. The note that black holes hum (in a very, very low octave).
Six came into the world not long after that, after a brief, intense labor. As he was being born, my first thought was that his nose was enormous.
His face isn’t the only thing that sets him apart from his siblings. His personality is a shower of sparks, a hurricane of energy, deep feeling, and stubborn determination.
As number six, he’s always been surrounded by an entourage. Since he was a baby, his siblings have loved to entertain him because of the faces he makes in response.
He has been spoiled and placated at times, and he manages to squeeze equal amounts of fury and nurturing from everyone in the family.
I’ve lost count of the number of photos I found with him in the hiking backpack, either in the kitchen, or on the trail. 
He was as likely to be on Dad’s back as Mom’s.
He is the kid who from the time he was small, has screamed bloody murder at bath time, but loves water.
He got all the extra cuddles because we thought he’d be our last.
He’s so young that it’s hard to imagine the person he’ll grow up to be. He can be impossible. He shows us his tough side, then melts into tears. I’m often puzzled by how to parent him in a way that leaves us both sane.
He has moments of pure joy. There are the times when he just lets me hold him. And he fights sleep passionately, then powers down on the spot wherever his body finally shuts off.
I want the best for Six, as I do all my kids. He certainly broke the mold when he was born, entering as he did to the hum of the universe. Like his siblings, he is a fighter, a stalwart soldier.
He wants things a certain way and can’t be convinced the way our other kids usually can be to just do what he’s being asked. I’ve been in more fights with him, and let him win more of them, than with any other person (adult or child) in my life.
Six, you confound and challenge us. We love you so much. You are a square peg, and we know those angles are the gifts that make you unique and will make you an amazing grown up.
Photo credits: feature image, Lindsey Crandall Photography. First image in post, my midwife.
Today, we’re celebrating 16 years of life with our oldest. As the firstborn, he’s suffered the insult of having to Be Helpful and Responsible when none of his siblings were old enough to chip in. He has probably borne the brunt of our parenting mistakes.
He’s the one who’s welcomed all the additional siblings into his life, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes with happy pride. It never failed that any pregnancy he complained his way through (“We don’t need any more kids!”), he warmed right up to the baby once it arrived.
He is confident, has a high emotional IQ, and is kind and magnanimous with his younger siblings when we least expect it. 
His interests differ from mine almost as much as they possibly could – he listens to heavy metal and his eyes light up talking about bikes and outdoor activities that carry a high risk of death.
There is a steady march of packages to the door, full of bike parts and tech accessories. There is a steady march of friends to the back yard to hang out, repair broken bikes, or gather before leaving for a ride.
Every time he leaves the house, I pray for his safety. Every time he comes home, I breathe a sigh of relief.
We have a bit of an awkward relationship these days. He doesn’t want to be accountable to his parents, (or have his mom give him goodnight hugs), but he still has two years left before he is legally an adult. So we do a sometimes rewarding, sometimes uncomfortable dance of giving those last few lessons about maturity and life skills while he’s still with us.
In just a few years, the hands-on parenting will be finished, and we’ll just need to be open and supportive to the direction One takes as an adult. It’s enough to make you start questioning if you made enough of the right parenting moves.
But tonight, it will be take-out pizza and wings, celebrating a milestone birthday for our tallest kid. He said he didn’t want cake, so I made two batches of my favorite cookies. I hope he doesn’t mind.
Happy Birthday, Tall One. We love you.
Where do I start with this kid?
Four was my first rainbow baby, coming after two miscarriages. He was the first kid we had to “try” for. He was born with not one, but TWO nuchal hands.
This is a true middle child, with three older sibs, and three younger ones. He has proven to be a teammate, a friend, and a thoughtful comrade. He was One’s first brother after two sisters.
When I was trying to help him scrape out a condiment bottle one recent afternoon to get the rest, he stopped me. He didn’t want to take it all and leave none for his sister.
He moves seamlessly between the older kids and the younger ones. He learned how to ride a bike at age four with encouragement and help from his older sibs. So far, he’s the only kid who’s taking after the Chaplain and learning to play the piano.
This sweet boy is always “hummy” as he used to say, learning how to read, and endlessly thoughtful and diligent. He wears two hairbands on his wrist because one time in his hip hop class last year, his teacher needed a hairband and didn’t have one, and he wanted to be prepared if that ever happened again. He was wearing hairbands on his wrist for months before I found out the reason behind them. It reminded me of this story.
If you’re wondering what a Saga Boy is, according to the Urban Dictionary, it’s “A guy who likes to dress up nice. ” It’s a Tobagonian turn of phrase. In American English, I’m not aware of any words that describe a guy who is a classy dresser without having any negative implications (I kept coming up with “dandy,” which is definitely NOT Four. “Dapper” didn’t seem quite right, either.) The way my sister-in-law described it when she told me, a saga boy is a guy who always looks nice and dresses well no matter where he’s going. And while Four has his little boy moments with camo and t-shirts with sports slogans, he is the guy who can generally be relied upon to look good when we are going somewhere, with no direction from me. He has a great sense of style. And the true joy he gets from hanging out with his family makes his face shine and completes the look.
These characteristics – his style, his kind heart and professional sibling status, and his bottomless stomach – are unique parts of him that make him such a precious soul. We love him and are privileged to have him in our brood. Happy Birthday, Young Man.
A year ago today, we welcomed a silly, sweet boy with a chill disposition into our family.
When I started looking at photos, I was overwhelmed by the love we all feel for our rainbow baby. 
During this difficult year, Seven has been a ray of sunshine in the dark night. 
He isn’t interested in following anyone else’s program, but he is content to make his own way without creating a lot of waves. 
As the past few weeks have gone by and he’s sprouted teeth and started to stand on his own, we’ve gotten a glimpse of what’s to come – when we have to say goodbye to our baby and hello to a little toddler. 
I know that no matter how big he gets, he will still be everyone’s Little Brother and my baby. 
He’s got so many people to watch over him, defend him, and tell him what to do. 
Hopefully that won’t put a cramp in his style.
Something tells me it won’t.
Pictured above at ten months, on our first trip to Tobago.
She was my first daughter.
And she’s always kept us on our toes. As a baby, she refused to nap for fear she might miss something. She was walking at eight months old, an impossibly tiny creature on two legs.
By a year, she was a confident runner. And she still takes that same courageous, energetic spirit into whatever she’s tackling next. Unless she doesn’t want to.
She simultaneously fascinates us and infuriates us.
When we went out when she was a toddler, I was sure she would find another family she liked better than us and leave with them. Starting as a small person, she could always find someone she knows in a crowd.
Once, when we were at Jones Beach, she disappeared. I was terrified until I found her a little ways down the beach playing with a family she knew from her grandparent’s church. On a huge beach, in the summer, she found familiar faces.
Now, my fears are more along the lines of how we’ll survive her teen years. 
She is in turns amazingly helpful and completely maddening. We often marvel how such a dramatic, fantastic, social person came from two introverted homebodies. I’m sure she will continue to amaze us.
And drive us nuts.
We love this kid.
