Somehow this is my first blog post of 2022 and the only year ever to skip Huck’s birthday. The other night I had a dream that I took a nap, woke up and discovered I’d lost my baby Mabel. I ran all around some strange house and neighborhood looking for her, shocked that I’d been so negligent. Back in the 1990s Jamie and Paul Buchman from “Mad About You” named their baby Mabel, and when she’s a teenager complaining about it, Jamie patiently explains that the name means “Mothers Always Bring Extra Love.”  I’m no dream expert, but whoa. I think I was dreaming about this poor, neglected blog.

So here’s a little recap.

Back in early February I walked through snow in my flip flops to our Adirondack chairs to read in the sunshine. It was like two different seasons in the same back yard and a perfect example of the February Twilight Zone that Troy and I had been living in. First there was the snow and ice that closed the town down and forced us to reschedule our annual Circus Play, then there was Troy’s Covid diagnosis, then there was my Covid diagnosis, then there were three straight negative tests in a row for Huck, who was deeply disappointed and slammed a door or two. No one wanted a break from school more than Huck, but he was going to have to depend on the weather for that and not the pandemic.

This year so far has been about snow days, canceled and rescheduled plans, touches of spring, The ACT, SAT and All-State Choir for Huck, a trip to Kansas for me, Troy’s children’s book, my Wizard of Oz production, planning college visits over the summer, and snow in tomorrow’s forecast.

But perhaps most important, Aunt Jeni came for her annual visit to celebrate Huck’s birthday this last weekend. At 17, Huck has a very part-time career editing videos, maintaining websites, and creating Power Point presentations. He’s a junior in high school with no social media. He’s an academic, a procrastinator, and a lover of manicures, rings, incense, tea, the French language, and Apple products. He wants to go to MIT and one day be a math or physics professor. His hair is the envy of every woman he meets, and he wears white Converse with tiny red lips all over them. He regularly burdens me with his stresses and then yells at me when I nag him. The best advice I get is to let him fail, to stop reminding him of all his deadlines, to let him grow up. But I can’t. I just have too much extra love.

When I told Huck about my dream, he suggested it was about him and the future. At 17, he’s also sensitive. Whatever its meaning, it had a happy ending when someone found Mabel and she was fine, thank goodness. Just like this trusty old blog. To make up for my long nap, here are pictures from the last 68 days. Happy New Year!