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Thursday, 9 April 2015

If this is April the 9th.....

Every year, since I first started blogging, I've written a post on this day to commemorate the day Garry (my first husband) and I brought Chris home to live with us.  The day he ate fries, chattered nonsense in our friends' car, carried the most pathetic stuffie ever, got welcomed by all our friends and family, and caused Garry to vault over me from his side of the bed because of the strangling noise we later found to be Chris snoring.

I say with no qualms that he was a darling child, a wear-only-black 6 year old, a struggling student, a natural toy tractor and real car driver, a family-centred being, a terror of unknown quantity as a teen-ager, a loving husband and father and a thoughtful and opinionated adult.  Just what we wanted.

If I have any regrets in life, and you bet I do, one of the strongest is being a guiding, make-your-own-informed-decisions parent to a child who needed stronger discipline and fewer platitudes.  Can't fix that and I'm not sure I should, given the result.

He doesn't read my posts, so I'm not getting any kudos for this meandering This is Your Life, but I love looking back to the sweetheart he was, and to the scared new mom I was, and to the journey that we've had with both Garry and Dave.

Here he is at 2 when we were living in a one-bedroom apartment with a flimsy divider for his space.

Sarah and Chris; I think they're dancing

Chris at 6 or so with Dave

Chris at 12, Emily about 3 days old
Chris with Emily (l) and Sarah(r)at his wedding

Chris, Anne and Phoebe
Chris with me at Emily's wedding

Mommy and her boy

Daddy and his girl

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