On October first I wore a tank top and flipflops. In Syracuse. We are in the middle of a week of glorious weather–70s in the day, 50s at night. According to my phone it is going to hold at least until Sunday. After dinner every night Z rallies the troops for a walk around the neighborhood. Last night when T whined he did not wanna go Z informed him there will be an evening constitutional until it is too cold to do it, damn it. The “damn it” was implied. Then Z turned to me and commented on our extraordinary weather. “Maybe it will be a mild winter!” “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you hate America?” I hissed. The “fuck” was implied. But I believe he heard it loud and clear. The number one rule of living in Syracuse is you do not jinx the weather.

As we moseyed down our street Z caught me with a goofy grin on my face. “What?” he asked jerking me out of my daydream.

“Oh, I just saw T’s face for a second as he turned his head.” T was tearing down the block ahead of us on his balance bike. “He looked exactly like a picture of me when I was his age. It still is crazy to me. Before we had kids I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be able to look at another human and see yourself as a child. It’s a total mindfuck, like two of me decades apart are living in the same moment.” (The boys were out of earshot-“mindfuck” was stated, not implied.)

I glanced over at Z and he was looking rather bemused. “Oh….” I said. “Um, yeah. I still don’t know what that is like.” he grumbled.

I laughed. “Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Someday I will tell you who their real father is.”

The boys don’t look a thing like Z. Physically they are Cordanos through and through. When C was born and Z got a look at his face his first words were, “It’s another Cordano baby!” My genes are obviously very pushy, much like the rest of me.

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Broke out an old photo album and found some shots of me at around 4 years old.

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Smiles and a little naked tub action. Being my nudity is more than 30 years old the statute of limitations on embarrassment has expired. Although I cropped out my sister. I remembered rule #1 of the internet-don’t post nudie shots of anyone other than yourself! And why are you posting nudie shots of yourself? Stop it! (I’m ignoring the second part of the rule). You’re welcome B!

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T is Amazing. And I do require Special Handling. Man, that was one fine bodysuit.


He is so much like me on the inside as well. Hence the separation of M&Ms before consumption. And the nightmares. And the fear of new things. And the freakouts when anything in his life is out of order. Oh sweet sweet T, I am so very sorry. But I am going to be able to talk you through all of it. You have someone on your side who understands you completely. And honestly, isn’t it awesome to have the ability to stretch out the enjoyment of dessert for 30 minutes?

C had a field trip for school today. We spent the morning at the pumpkin patch. Dude loved it so much he threw an epic tantrum when it was time to leave. He was fearlessly jumping off haystacks. He couldn’t be more different from T. I understand T in my bones, but it sure is fun to have a kid who is up for anything.


2 thoughts on “Doppelganger

  1. When my C was born all the grand parents claimed him as part of their genetic line, and everyone told me he looked just like his dad. I still maintain he looks just like me, but I lack the photographic evidence to back it up, so I just imagine it’s true.

    • Ha! When T was born everyone said he looked just like me and my Dad (who we named him after). Everyone. No one said he looked like Z, even Z’s family. When he was a baby and toddler he looked astonishingly like the few old photos we have of my father. He might grow out of it and physically morph into a Leonard, but for now both boys are just very clearly my kids.

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