I don't actually remember my last visit back East in the fall. Even when I asked Felix, he wasn't sure; only that it was a "long, long time ago". With the craziness of senior season, I'm lucky if I have time to eat dinner, much less hop on a plane to head out to New Jersey.

But this past weekend, despite November 1 being a major early application deadline, I did indeed get on that plane, catching a red-eye Friday night and returning Sunday afternoon. My dad was being recognized by our local hospital for thirty-three years of service. How could I miss such a momentous occasion?!

All told, I was home for less than 48 hours, but it was enough to breathe in the crisp, cool air, watch deer walk through my parents' backyard, climb trees with my brother and uncle to pick apples, and admire the beautiful fall foliage in season. I was surprised by how quickly - and crushingly - the nostalgia rushed in. What was I thinking, moving to and living in California? With so little time to spare, I snapped a few pictures of a fuzzy brown n' black caterpillar, Rob in the apple tree, and a dappled and brilliant red maple, hoping that these small tidbits would suffice once I got back on the plane.

Yet even now, as I sit here and look out the window at the evergreen shrubbery and drizzly rain, I feel restless. My heart is uneasy, and I miss home.

The mornings are getting foggy and cold again, and I've tucked away the shorts and tees in the closet, replacing them with pants and turtlenecks. We've already had our first rainfall, and the kids wander around in their fleecy pajamas, wondering why the sun sets so quickly. All signs that winter, in its still-strange-to-me California way, is coming.

But ahhhhhh, the summer. Don't you just wish you could cling to it a bit longer? Soak in one more ray of light, one more dip in the pool, one more slice of sweet, sticky watermelon?

That's what I think about as I sit in my office, busily reading another season of essays and applications and driving home in the dark. Summer.

Mmmmmm...

There's just something so sweet about a sleeping child. I love sitting down next to our babes as they drift off, eyes growing increasingly droopy...closing...closing...closed. And just as in life, they each fall asleep so differently. Keira is ever peaceful. From birth, she's adored her zzzzz's, and I enjoy watching her snuggle in with her cherished "pb" (pink blanket), pop her thumb in her mouth, and go to her zen place, a destination of peaceful repose. Ellie is chatty, her mouth moving even in whispers, until I look over at her and suddenly realize she's stopped talking. Bryce, of course, is Mr. Restless, rubbing his face in his lovie, suck-suck-sucking fiercely on his binkie, and turning and tossing until he abruptly and swiftly passes out.

And so every night, every naptime, every drowsy moment, reminds me that I need to soak in these truly precious moments and savor my sweethearts - as endearing awake as they are asleep.

Wow, August is already here! It's crazy to think about, especially given that Keira will start kindergarten at the end of this month. We're sending her to a bilingual Chinese immersion program, which means that 80% of her day will be taught in Mandarin and only 20% will be in English. Needless to say, I'm a little stressed about the whole thing. Not only is my baby starting school (will there be bullies?! will she be scared without me?! will she hate learning?!?!), but she probably won't understand a word of what anyone is saying to her, at least at the beginning.

Fortunately, Keira will not be alone. Her other self - her beloved cousin Claire - will be going along with her, ready to brave the adventures of a new school and new language together.

In fact, I would say in some ways, the two are almost closer than sisters. Like twins of the same age, they share stories and secrets, giggles and tears, and lots and lots of love. When I see them together, I feel incredibly lucky that we have family - not just immediate, but extended - all around us. More than anything else, it gives me faith that whatever Keira might encounter in the years ahead, she will never be alone.

Bryce Dakota Lin, a.k.a. Bryce-zilla, a.k.a. Brycee. Our fiery and funny one-and-a-half year old who has no idea that he's only one-and-a-half. Whatever we're up to, he wants to do, too. I love the way he scarfs his food, relishing every bite until his potbelly looks like it's going to burst. I laugh at the way he insists that we leave a little trickle of water running from the bath faucet so he can run his fingers through and stick his head under to take a sip. And I adore it when he toddles over with his arms outstretched, ready to be picked up so he can snuggle his head under my chin and rest on my chest. Ahhhhh....

Best yet, he's in the midst of developing language. This is our third time around, and yet the process by which words take shape still amazes me.

"Duh?" This was Bryce's "more" for quite a while. "Duh? Duh?" accompanied by a pointing finger to the desired object. We've just recently moved onto: "Muh?" Getting closer!

And of course, "NO!!!!" has never been a problem, but I'm pleased to announce that "Yah!!!" has also become a part of his vocabulary.

Perhaps most of all, I will always remember the way he cusses us out, strapped into his carseat and so angry because he'd rather be anywhere but there. We have no idea what he's hollering, but if he had words, they'd all have four letters. In silence, the whole family sits in the car and listens to his hurled invectives. "H#(*^(%*&!)(*@!!!"

"I don't love you."

I couldn't believe that Keira actually said those words to me.

"That's the meanest thing you've ever said. Ever."

I walked out of the bathroom, keeping a stoic face and going about the rest of my tidying up, while Felix went in to help Keira finish washing her hands. I had reminded her to do so after going potty, thus drawing her unexpected wrath.

I heard Felix murmuring to her but didn't really know what he was saying. He bundled her off to bed and then came out to sit with me, at which point I simply started bawling.

The tears actually caught me off guard. Keira's not even five yet. I knew she didn't really understand what she was saying. Yet I couldn't help it. Keira is my sweetheart, my baby, my buddy, my first...and her meanness stung me badly.

Today at work, I had a therapeutic emotion dump with my coworkers, as we reminisced about all the horrid, cruel, and angry things we had shouted at our own parents over the years. It helped me regain perspective. I love - no, I adore - Keira. But I need to remember that more than a mere friend, I am her mother and need to be the bigger person, the rock on which she can pound and scream and still find standing there, unwaveringly committed.

And so I brace myself for the years still to come. Because I know that Keira loves me, and of course, I love her, but I realize that my angel is going to zing me again...and again...and who knows how many times. So I've taken a deep breath and am readying myself. The bigger person. Keira's mom.

I also come from a family of five, and growing up with my two younger brothers was an absolute blast. The memories are countless: cavorting in the back of our station wagon while my mom drove the long trek to Disney World; screaming in hysterical terror, while we shook off the caterpillars that clung to our shirts after we dove into piles of fall leaves; and gleefully slapping the backs of each others hands in that never-grows-old-but-is-so-stupid game of who's faster. There are few people in this world that I am closer to or know me better than my brothers.

And yet. I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. When I was a kid, I nagged my mom to have another baby, just hoping that it might turn out to be a girl. (Of course, now, I understand the enormity of my request. Four children?! No wonder my mom said NO.) I sometimes envied Tom and Rob for the brotherly camaraderie they shared. What would it have been like to have a sister, someone with whom I could share a room, gossip and giggle with, and have that special bond?

So when we found out that we were going to have Ellie, I don't know that I could have been happier. Two girls! I would be raising sisters.

It's been such a joy. I love watching them squabble over their stuffed animals. I love the way Keira picks out Ellie's clothes and tells her what to do. I love the way Ellie parrots every word that comes out of Keira's mouth (much to her older sister's frustration). And I love listening to the girls, laying in their bunkbed and whooping and whispering late into the night before finally drifting off to sleep.

It was only a few weeks ago that Keira came running into my room, crying and wanting comfort. "Ellie told me that she wasn't my sister anymore," she sobbed.

I hugged her close and reassured her. "Don't worry, Keira. That will never happen. Once you're born sisters, no matter how happy or angry you are, and no matter what you might say to each other, you will always be sisters forever."

Has it already been more than a year since I posted anything on my dusty ol' blog? Sadly true. In fact, it was receiving my annual web hosting bill that reminded me that I was even still out there in cyberspace.

So what to do? Well, I paid my bill and resolved to blog more. Hehe. We'll see how that goes.

I think the key to keeping me honest is not to put so much pressure on myself. So yes, I'm going to be blogging more (really, I swear). But it'll be different - a short n' sweet version of my former self.

Thus, in a nutshell, the past year has been as busy as ever between life with three kids and the daily grind of work. Keira: totally embracing the role of the oldest, from bossying her younger minions around, to tattling on their mischief, to protecting them from life's dangers and bullies. Ellie: talking up a storm, trying to deal with her archnemesis (Bryce-zilla), and copying her older sister in every motion, word, and decision. And Bryce: what a fierce one he's turned out to be! Without hesitation, he'll look you straight in the eye, stomp his foot, and holler, "NAH!" And yet he can be such a charmer, too; ever the politician, he loves wandering the aisles of restaurants, shaking diners' hands and offering a smile to anyone who's looking.

My three loveys. Could life - in all its zaniness - get any better? I don't think so.