Onesies were Brigid’s idea. The rest of the siblings had their newborns, new spouses, new houses, new raises, and other welcome topics of the successful adult. For the singles — Brigid, Kevin, Shannon, and of course myself — still living at home, working as either students or teachers, there were no new achievements or traditional rites of passage to announce over double helpings of pumpkin pie. For myself, the arrival of yearly milestones — first college degree, first internship, first car, first job, first paycheck, first roadtrip, first love, first heartbreak . . . first hangover — had come to a halt sometime during the last five years. It was as if while running a marathon, you discovered someone had replaced the road with a treadmill.