I’m a little raw around the edges today due to some matters that I’m trying to muster the courage to write about, and also because late yesterday I realized that it was my dad’s fake (but long real to me) birthday and I failed to pay my respects at the cemetery.

You’re probably wondering what the fake birthday is about.

About 40 years ago, one of my siblings was born in April, one day before my dad’s real birthday. And as the ultimate, sometimes wacky but always well intentioned matriarch of the family, my mother subsequently moved my dad’s birthday to March. Not only did she move it, but oddly enough, the new date (March 11) did not mirror my dad’s birthday (i.e., his real birthday is later in April, not April 11). Maybe there was a church conflict or something that year.

Anyway, it wasn’t until well into adulthood — when I needed my dad’s documents for something — that I discovered he was actually born in April. But to this day, I always consider March 11 to be his day.

Laurel and I spent a lot of time with my dad during the last 9 months of his life, though obviously, she doesn’t remember that time at all (she was 10 months old when he died). I learned so many lessons from him and every time I see how beautifully Laurel interacts with my mom or my in-laws I feel huge, irrepressible longing to have him here. When my dad was well enough, we spent a lot of time at the 70’s formica kitchen table that served countless Koh family meals. This picture is far from perfect; it’s kind of blurry and not well composed but Laurel’s expression cracks me up and I love seeing her and my dad in profile because she looked so much like him as a baby.

Happy birthday, dad — one fake day late (and over a real month early). I miss you terribly and I can only envision the chatter that you and Laurel would engage in now. She’s a talker, just like me.

Laurel and my dad, November 2004

Laurel has always been an uber attached kid. It was evident from the very beginning when she made it clear that she was not interested in budging from my womb at 42 weeks. It was evident when she was a baby, during which time she was happiest and most content in my arms. It was evident when our transitions to day care and kindergarten took months (yes, months) to shake out. Laurel has said that she’d like to live with me and Jon forever, and while I realize she is speaking through the lens of a five-year-old, I also have thought that it wouldn’t be entirely out of the question if she did, in fact, hold this preference into adulthood.

But over the last few months, Laurel has changed. Whether it’s simply a function of age or the growth and change associated with kindergarten, her confidence has bloomed and she has come out of her shell. Though she remains cautious around strangers (something I’m actually glad for), she’ll now say hello to checkout clerks. Previously one to cling to my hand, she’ll now run many paces ahead of me en route to the playground. And we now can do drop off playdates with friends and she’s happy as a clam, often begging for a sleepover by the end of the date.

And on Wednesday she ran into my in-laws’s arms with a brief wave, smile, and “goodbye mommy” to me.

And no tears.

Except for mine.

We met up with my in-laws so Laurel could spend a few days of February vacation with them. My in-laws adore Laurel. She spent her first overnight with them after Christmas (she sobbed when we left but ultimately recovered quickly and had a great time). After that, my in-laws asked for more time with her over February vacation. This not only was awesome in general (for the first time we’re navigating the world of public school vacations following the luxury of year-round day care), but it allowed me to book for Mom 2.0, which otherwise wasn’t going to happen without help, since the last couple of weeks have been a bit crazy, with travel to Blissdom and the Bahamas.

And the love goes both ways. When we connected with Jon’s parents, Laurel leapt into their arms. And when it was time to say goodbye, I was the one clutching her, covering her face with kisses. Ironically, Laurel did what the teachers always advised us to do on departure; she made the goodbye short and sweet and moved on.

She looked so, so happy.

As Jon and I watched Laurel walk away with my in-laws — giggling and without so much as a glance over her shoulder — my eyes filled with tears. My girl was growing up. The easy detachment and independence that I had long yearned for was finally here. I stood there waiting for her to turn around.

She didn’t.

And oh how I ached to have her run back into my arms for one more hug.

OK, so perhaps it’s just freaky coincidental timing (and a testament to Jon’s strongly worded letter), but a couple of hours after posting about our Blue Cross shenanigans, the phone rang, and Blue Cross showed up on the caller ID.

Admittedly, I panicked for a second before picking up the phone. It felt a tad big brother.

The Blue Cross representative and I discussed the claim. I told her that we thought it was absurd that we were paying $1000+ a month in out-of-pocket premiums, never go to the doctor other than well visits, don’t get prescriptions filled, etc., yet we were being denied flu shot coverage because the person who gave the shot was registered in another state. Even though we got the shot in the appropriate state.

She changed course and said that since we’re under a managed care plan, we would have been covered if we got flu shots from our PCPs. I told her that when I called our PCPs they told us they didn’t have any flu shots available for us and told us to go to a public flu clinic. (This absurdity is a whole other matter entirely.) We went back and forth for a few minutes. She said that next year we needed to go to our PCP to get covered, or to a limited care clinic such as CVS, which contracts with Blue Cross.

And then she told me she would make an exception and reimburse us for our flu shots.

Excuse me while I go pick my jaw up off the floor.