The Day That Changed Everything

When I was growing up
everyone thought my father was really my grandfather. I didn't mind that much.
I knew that we were different, that my little family with my older father and
glamorous mother weren't quite like the other families we knew.

My father was really good at
making light of it. People would come up to us in restaurants when we were out
for a father-daughter pancake breakfast, and pat me on the head and ask,
"Is this your granddaughter?"

"Nope," my father
would reply with a twinkle in his eye, "she's my grandson's aunt."

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Weekly Wednesday Photo

Veronica, 27 weeks

At her 6 month checkup yesterday she weighed in at 18.8 pounds and measured 27 inches long. She also kept up her record for never crying once when getting a shot ( or three). I, on the other hand, come close every time.

To view all the weekly photos click here.

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Am I Crazy for Feeling Jealous of my Daughter’s Nanny?

When I was in 7th grade I went to visit my aunt and uncle in Boston. My aunt Pam was a middle school art teacher at a school in the city and my cousins, her kids, were all in college by then. My own family was living in Florida at the time and because we were so far away from Pam and her family, my mom thought it would be a good idea for us to spend some time together.

I had so much fun on that trip. Boston felt like a whole new world in comparison to the small Florida town in which we lived. There was something about New England that inherently resonated with me and I loved being there that week. My aunt took me to the Museum of Fine Arts, to Faneuil Hall and to the harbor where we watched ships come in and out of the port.

That week my aunt also took me to school with her. While she taught her regular art classes all day I visited the various other classes, dropping in on English, Science and Math class for my age group. That might sound terrible but I was kind of a nerd and enjoyed it. Most of all, I loved the English class I sat in on that week.

The class was reading The Pearl by John Steinbeck and the teacher gave me a copy so I could keep up. I consumed it in one evening so that I could participate in the next day's discussion. These classes were so much more stimulating than the crappy Florida public school system I was entrenched in and I soaked up every minute of it.

(I'm getting to the nanny jealousy thing, I promise.)

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