On Luke’s Day, an unexpected answer to prayer, a fraudulent email, and a promise to my nine-year-old son taught us that putting our children first means more than making time for them. It means allowing each child to be himself, listening to what he tells us, and remembering that the work of understanding our lives must never take the place of living them together.
Tag Archives: DID System
What Did I Miss?
On Proverb’s Day, a frightening envelope brings unexpected good news, a Greek salad awakens an old fear, and a father learns that what looks like confusion may sometimes be someone else knowing where to look.
Everyone Needs a Face
A childhood photograph I once could barely look at has become the face of my ten-year-old son. On Han’s Day, two photographs, an old therapist, and a morning together teach us something about trauma, joy, recognition, and what it means to believe someone when they tell you what you cannot see.
Just Love Me
When Proverb tells Dad, “I’m not real to you,” he does not mean that Dad doubts he exists. He means that believing a child is real has consequences. On Luke’s Day, a plural family of nine discovers the difference between saying children have a voice and building a life in which their voices actually matter.
Show Me Your Work: Inside the Journal of a Plural Family of Nine
How a Montessori kid, a very large journal, and an artificial intelligence help nine people sharing one body find enough order to live an ordinary life.
There Were Eleven People in That Car 
When we listened back to one of our stories, we discovered that eight of our children had disappeared from the arithmetic. There were not three people in that car. There were eleven. The next morning, nine of us left home together—and someone saw us.
You Get to Be Seven
A seven-year-old goes quiet. Daddy realizes that love has accidentally become a burden. A day of memories, friendship, repair, and the unseen work of a plural family becomes a lesson in what it means to let a child be seven.
More Daniel
Daniel has always been Daniel, whether anyone recognized him or not. As our five-year-old son learns to say no, express anger, and tell us what he wants, the rest of us are learning something too: how to create a family in which he never has to become loud in order to matter.
It Smells Like Home
What is it like when an adult and eight children share a body, mind, inner world, memories, relationships, trauma, and an ordinary life? Sometimes the questions are enormous. Sometimes being Dad means admitting you need help. And sometimes it means chopping an onion and making dinner.
Your Children Are Your Life
A trip to Hayward becomes something more than a meeting: a family moves toward an uncertain future without leaving anyone behind. There is BART, peanut butter and jelly, grace, a new Vincentian home, time together afterward—and a friend who understands something essential: “Your children are your life.”
