A Letter to My Sort of Kids on Our Familyversary

To P and S (or Hash Brown 1 and Hash Brown 2, as you like to be called)--

I know this is not the life we thought we'd have, but what a wonderful life it is. July came and went, as did the anniversary of us becoming a family, in all its weird and messy and laughter-filled glory. In some ways it feels like the year has flown by. In both the best and worst of times, days quickly became nights which quickly became days. And still we stand together. In this tumultuous year you both have grown in ways that I could never have imagined. Your sister and I are so, so proud of who you are, and constantly think about how lucky we are that this is our life.



I don't say this much because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but I want to let you know that I love you more than I knew I could love. I look at both of you and all I feel is warmth. I cherish even the small moments, like when I get to drive you to work or a dance, and we just talk about your day or your favorite things. I love how much joy you get in the smallest things--jokes about farts, swimming, blasting Big Sean in the car. There are days when I buy real milk, just because I know you like it better than almond milk. And if that ain't love, what is? I love the moments when you are your truest selves--vulnerable, silly, determined beyond measure. I love that we've formed our own language, and that no one gets our inside jokes. I love that you call me my breakfast-themed nickname, even in public. And I love that somehow I became the go-to person when the toilet is clogged.



There is so much in this world I want to protect you from. Stares, stairs, etc. There's so much that I know you weren't protected from and I am sorry. You deserved so much more, especially in the past few years. I know it's messy. Sometimes too messy to even get your head around. But at the end of the day, I want you to know that your sister and I, and so many other people, are unashamedly crazy about you. We love your piercing screams of excitement and the fact that you can seemingly eat everything in sight and still not gain a pound. We love when you dance. We love how proud you are when you meet your goals. We ache when you feel the unfairness of this world. But we love your persevering natures.



This year, you competed in three different sports through the Special Olympics. You've made new friends. Started new jobs (and are rocking them). You started physical and occupational therapy and are getting stronger every day. You help with meals and can even cook some things by yourselves. You sing and have dance parties in your room to Christian music. In even the smallest ways, I see a new sense of life coming into both of you. I see you advocating for yourselves. I see you defining the values you want to live by.

I sometimes call you my kids, just because brother and sister-in-law is too long and Regina George told me to stop trying to make sibs happen. You are adults who are engaging, funny, and compassionate. But you'll always be my kids, and I'll always your "Egg."

Xoxo,
K (or Egg, as you like to call me)

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