Tonight, at dinner, my aunt was reminiscing that this week four years earlier, she had been in Washington and swung through the NICU to meet the ChickieNob and Wolvog. The last time the Olympics were on, we were staying in a hotel across from the hospital on mileage points that our parents had pooled together and given to us. We were exhausted and emotional and the ChickieNob was having dozens of bradys and the Wolvog was only two pounds. It was a few days into the Olympics when I suddenly realized they had begun and I sobbed about missing the opening ceremonies and how I had imagined that we'd be giving them a bottle on the bed while watching the ceremonies as a four-some.
And now, four years later, four bodies sprawled together in a hotel bed in my aunt's city, we are watching the Olympics and we are visiting my aunt and we are explaining Chinese history to inquisitive and verbal four-year-olds.
It is hard to imagine that we ever reached this point when I think back to four years ago today.