12 September 2024

 On September 4, every parent's nightmare came true in Winder, Georgia. Again. 

Trusting parents dropped their children off at school to learn, to see friends, to be safe. Spouses probably said, "Love you, see you tonight." 

Two children and two teachers did not come home that day. 

Maybe I am overly empathetic, maybe overly dramatic. Potential labels don't really impact the way I feel. I feel the anguish of every mother when I think about those moms. They planned to see their kids after school. Maybe they had soccer practice, or needed a haircut, or had a birthday party to attend. Maybe they were going to sit down around the dinner table together as a family. Now there is an empty chair at that table. I legitimately do not know how one navigates that blow. I do know that when I became a mother, a large part of my heart went to inhabit my children, and that part of my heart walks around in the world, at risk. How does a parent heal when part of you is taken so unexpectedly, so violently? I think, though I hope to never know first hand, that you never really do. So even though I don't know these families in Winder, they could easily be me. If my child, or my husband did not come home from the school where they spend so much of their days, I can not imagine that pain. In these moments, I weep for the heartbreak of these other moms; my heart aches for their despair. There are too many of these moments.

On September 11, social media started spreading chatter about a shooter planning to hit our high school. OUR SCHOOL. Looking through my kids' text messages with their friends that afternoon was devastating:

"I'm not going tomorrow." 

"I'm afraid."

"There is no way I am going to school."

"My parents will probably make me go, my grades are more important than my life." 

The fact that 14 year-olds are even having these conversations is... wrong. Just... wrong.

I had to sit down with my children and my husband and have a conversation about it all. How do you even begin to weigh those risks? The feelings they have? We talked about how these fears are valid. About trying not to let fear rule our lives, how trying to live in the world will have some risks, how we should not have to let others dictate how we go about our days, how fear gives those who threaten an outsized perception of their powers over us. And yet, this mama's heart fluttered with fear that entire night and all of the next day as the 13 year old who started the rumor was eventually arrested. And then, my mama's heart hurt for that child's mother. How their life will be forever changed over a Snapchat or Instagram post. 

As a boy mom, I've watched a lot of superhero movies. There is a scene in the Avengers where they need the Incredible Hulk to show up to help with the fight. 

“Doctor Banner, now might be a good time for you to get angry,” says Captain America. Bruce Banner calmly turns to him, and before he transforms into the Hulk to take the beast down, he says, "That's my secret, Cap: I'm always angry."

I wrote some in 2020 about how I was tired and angry of all the people who weren't willing to be inconvenienced in any way to potentially protect my children from a virus we were learning about. And how I was tired of being angry. Now, apparently, I am just Bruce Banner. I'm always angry or sad or both ~ so often I can't decide which is in the forefront. I am SO sad that my children are sometimes afraid to go to school. I am SO angry that my children are sometimes afraid to go to school. There needs to be a new emoji, because I usually have to use the sad AND the angry face. 

I am not okay. 

I am functional, and I am doing my best, but I am 100% broken in fundamental ways, and these are fractures that are not healing, not going away. I cope, but I carry the hurt of this fear, heartbreak, and anger - for my family, and for all the families with that empty chair at their table. When does it stop? How did we get here? How do we leave here? 

I am not alone, and there is power in the strength of angry parents, but it doesn't currently feel like enough. Which makes me sad. And angry. 

What I can do is talk about it, try to make changes locally, connect with other people who feel as I do and above all, sow kindness in every possible moment. I really do believe that love and kindness can conquer so many of our problems, that it makes a real difference. I would probably do it better if my heart were not so heavy so often. 

 

September 2023 - "Mom."

 At the end of this month, you have been gone for seven years. 

Almost half of each of your grandson's lives. 

They have now lived without you almost as long as they had you in their lives. Their memories of you are thin and far away. When the oldest one sings with his vocal ensemble, I ache knowing how much you would have loved hearing his voice. "Danny Boy" simply unravels me, the tears that would have shone in your eyes fill mine. When the youngest dances with his trombone line in the jazz band, I know you would have been dancing along. I miss your love of music, the way it filled you; watching you listen and feel song was joyful and infectious. 

I could use your advice now, that I mother teenagers ~ looking back I try to remember how you handled us. You seem unflappable in memory, though I know we tried you. You are my measure for motherhood, which may not be wise, but is hard to avoid. I have so many questions about this job that I would love to ask you. There was never a time when we did not feel loved. We were secure, solid, entirely confident that you were there for us, always, without question. Do my boys feel that fortress of certainty? God knows I try. And I miss you. Every damn day.

I can feel some gratitude that your expansive spirit and unlimited capacity for love are no longer frustrated and restricted by the failings of your earthly vessel, as it was hard for you near the end ~ to not be able to do and go in all the ways you wanted. But the weight of your absence is heavier. Selfish, perhaps, but for my children to not fully know the ferocious pride and unwavering support of their grandmother's spirit cannot help but make my heart heavy. Every concert, every graduation, any celebrations that may come will all have a hole where you should be - with your enormous heart brimming with joy for them. They will never really truly know you now. I will try to be as much like you in all the good ways I can, since I had the unshakeable love of a powerful mother's heart to guide me... but I miss you, Mom. 

__________________________________________________________________________

After a cathartic cry, I am looking for a different perspective for these feelings.

In so many ways, you are still here.

You are part of the way I feel music.

I see you in the sense of humor of your youngest grandson.

Your smile is in the face of my oldest son, he favors us. 

Your July 4 birthday spirit is part of our family's patriotism, and we celebrate you still.

Your heart is still part of our family Christmas. You were the one who made it magic.

Even though you are no longer here to see and to hold, there are a thousand things around me that are part of who you were, that mean you are still part of our lives. Sometimes these reminders bring tears ~ but they are your memory, your legacy, and those parts of you that are alive in all of us who loved you.

September 2021

 September 1, 2021

What is wrong with this world? The kids went to school for 3 weeks, with no mask mandate. The contact trace quarantine was downgraded to "suggested" after Gov. Lee passed an executive order to prohibit school districts from instituting their own mask mandates. Memphis and Metro did it anyway. Then there are SO MANY SICK PEOPLE that Wilson closed for a week. That should fix it, right? 

Here is my main issue with the current lack of leadership, and the letter I sent to every elected official in the county and state.

"My “rights” should include the “right” to send my children to public school, funded by my taxes, with the expectation that those I elected will take all reasonable measures to make that a safe place for them to learn. We prohibit peanut products, as they might make some children sick. We prohibit drugs at the schools (you have to fill out two forms just to have Benadryl on hand for kids with allergies) in to protect the children from access to inappropriate substances. We ban smoking and vaping on campus, because they are bad for the health of the students.  There are speed limits on school campuses and the zones around them, with people in the road to enforce them. We don’t permit weapons of any kind, again, to protect the kids while they are at school. All these things impact a small fraction of the student population ~yet we all accept these limitations to our “freedom” in the best interest of student safety. ALL of these examples demonstrate that our “right” to do whatever we want actually ends the moment those choices become a threat to someone else. So, how can you allow people to shout about their “rights” when they pose a DIRECT risk to my child’s health? Why do those of us who are willing to be inconvenienced (which is NOT the same thing as oppressed) in the interest of protecting ALL the kids have no "rights?”  Where is our “freedom” to have the right to have our kids be safe as possible at school? How did this ever become about anything other than protecting those without a voice, our children?  The Governor keeps saying parents know what is best for their children - Why do other parents get to choose for me that they can expose my family to a highly contagious virus? Where is my “choice?” I don’t even have a virtual “choice” thanks to the current policies. Sick children are not learning. Terrified children are not learning. You are creating both, and it is not helping them with the dreaded “learning loss” you keep harping about. It is making it worse and if you don’t change course, your legacy will be an object lesson and not an example of leadership.

We need actual leadership. In lieu of that, we need a virtual option NOW before more health care workers and school employees end up in mental crisis and leave the professions when we need them most. It is already happening. Fix it. Now."

It probably won't help. But I have to believe that there is some power in words. I feel so defeated as a parent trying to teach childrent that we have a responsibility to our fellow humans, to teach them kindness and compassion when they are surrounded by so many selfish adults who only care about what THEY want that they can't see (or just don't care) that what THEY want and what THEY do actually has the potential to directly harm others. Constantly looking to demonstrate and find examples of good people so the children don't feel as hopeless as I do. 

July 2021

 Looking back at the post from January, I am struck by how little things have changed. This was my summer of hope. Going back to living. Letting my boys have fun, have friends. Seeing family. Except it isn't really. 

Things are better ~ some ~ but not better enough. I had such high hopes that we were turning a corner. Vaccines and masking that was working, preventing. But it isn't working. Because not everyone is willing to participate. Not everyone is willing to protect my kids. The not-so-low-level-mom-rage that simmers inside of me ALL the time now makes me cranky. Impatient. Short tempered. Exhausted. We gave up more than a year of "normal" life, and if my loved ones get sick now ~ after all we sacrificed ~ because someone has been fed a line of bullshit about the efficacy of masking or vaccines I AM GOING TO BE PISSED OFF. It's like the HIV epidemic all over again. Fear, misinformation, judgement, the average human being unwilling to make small behavioral changes to prevent sickness and death. I cannot fathom how this works. How people can just be cavalier about the lives of others. How they sleep at night or look in a mirror. How many preventable deaths is too many? Oh, wait. One. 

Apparently I'm not actually ready to write about this yet. 

 January 2021

This may be a post I never publish. Maybe I just need a place to vent, to talk about my feelings, to dump my tears. 

I am tired. Exhausted. Not so much physically, though I am not sleeping all that well without assistance. But inside. Tired of being afraid. For my family. For my country. I want to just lock the world out and huddle my boys around me and stay safe. 

But I don't want that. I want to go and do and see the world. See my friends. My brother. My father. I want my kids to see their cousins and their grandparents. Their friends. I want them to have birthday cake and nerf wars and sleepovers. It's selfish, I know. And they won't have that right now, and I am sure they will be just fine. But I have stress cracks in my heart. 

There is so much loss. Two people I know lost parents to Covid this week. How do we even grieve right now? All the traditions of gathering together to support and shelter one another are limited. It's all so damn scary. So unpredictable. And, for whatever reasons, there are people - people I know - who feel like masking and distancing are somehow about ANYTHING other than keeping others safe - or it is too damn inconvenient to actually DO anything for our fellow humans? Why is looking out for one another in such a small way somehow so freaking hard? I'm tired of being angry. 

Did I mention that I was tired?

2020 (November, if you are keeping track...)

 So... 2020. 

Miraculously, I posted in March of this year, so it looks like I will get TWO blog entries this year! 

This summer, BB was supposed to go to an academically gifted camp for two weeks. He was going to stay in a college dorm and take cool classes. He was going away for Scout camp for two weeks. Hubby was going to be giving the Army his usual 5 or so weeks and it looked like LB and I would be doing a lot as just the two of us. 

None of that happened, of course. Everything was cancelled. We went skiing in Vermont in very early March, where I sanitized everything constantly and we spent most of our time outside. Skiing for the first time with the boys was amazing fun. There were a lot of falls, but they were very game about it and say they can't wait to do it again. Flying from Boston to New Hampshire in a 8 seater plane was certainly a highlight for all of us. I am glad we did that, since it feels like we have not left the house since. 

All the cool camps were cancelled. LB turned 10 with no fanfare. BB turns THIRTEEN this week, also without fanfare. He does get to choose the place from which we order takeout... but these milestones are gliding by without the celebrations I so long to give them. I am crystal clear that these are very first world disappointments. I have come (finally) to a place where I feel like I can weep and mourn and rage and cry for all the bitter sadness in our world right now; all those without safe housing, adequate food, loss of jobs and income, access to health care ~ all the people who are losing loved ones every day... and still allow myself to feel my small sadness for the little(ish) things we have also lost. My missed opportunities are not life threatening, but I have gotten to the point where I have to acknowledge that my hurts are valid; even though they are so infinitesimally small compared to so many. In truth, the things for which I feel sadness are not for myself as much as for the things the boys are missing. These kids are, however, amazing me. They have adapted to a world that is so different remarkably well. (Possibly better than I have?) They have done online school with a great deal of grace. They have ridden their bikes A LOT and mastered wooden swordplay in the back yard. They miss their friends, going to the pool, going to camp, going to birthday parties; well, just... going. But, they don't whine about it (much) and seem to truly understand why masks are important and that this is just our world for now. 

I would be remiss if I didn't take a moment here to say how insanely grateful I am for their teachers. Holy cow, these humans are amazing. They have had to adapt to entirely new platforms, had to try and engage kids through a screen and online portals, had to literally figure out completely new ways to do their jobs - WHILE doing the job. It's like building an airplane mid-flight. I feel sure these teachers are not sleeping enough and spend SO much time trying to help their students that they have to be so burned out... and yet they keep showing up for these kids. As a nation, I am entirely certain that this entire profession needs a pay raise. A big one. 

I am beyond grateful that my employer has figured out how to let us/help us work from home during this crisis so I am not leaving two pre-adolescent boys alone in our home all day. (What could go wrong?) So, silver linings: More time with my babies. No matter what, when we go back to a life outside the house, I am going to miss that. (Pretty sure the dog will, too.) My commute is awesome. We have played more games together, eaten better (Shoot, I have even cooked some! Branching out!) We have made new friends online, who I hope to spend time with in real life some time. Every day, there is some act of kindness that gives me hope and faith that we can be our best selves when the chips are down. I have spent more time with some of my girlfriends on the phone, or having Zoom happy hour ~ it is, sadly, sometimes easier to "get together" from the living room on a Thursday than to carve out time to actually travel to a friend's house, get child care, etc. So, that has been a nice surprise. The opportunities shared by talented artists has been unbelievable. Truly. the kids have gotten to see ballet, concerts at the Ryman, Patrick Stewart reading daily Shakespearean sonnets, and Andrew Lloyd Webber playing piano in his living room. These are amazing things we might not have afforded in normal times. In particular, there are two singer/songwriters who we were lucky enough to see a few times at the Seay's Music Room who have been playing twice a week since the world shut down. Georgia Middleman and Gary Burr have given so selflessly of their time and talents to brighten these dark times. They are talented and funny ~ but here is this awesome other thing ~ the group of people who get together to watch them online have become like friends, too. When you go to a live concert, there is no matching the emotion and energy between audience and the creators of music and magic... but we also don't really get to know the people in the front row. We don't wish them happy birthdays or mourn their losses or make them feel connected to us as a crowd. The people who tune in to the Middleman Burr shows do those things. We all feel a little less alone for the time we get to spend together listening to amazing songs and bad jokes (sorry, G ~ some of them are good...) and we talk with one another. We are making connections with friends we haven't met yet. That is a silver lining. Maybe gold. 

So grateful for so many things; in the same breath as all of the sadness, anxiety, and fear. 

Breathe. Call your mom if you can. We are all in this together, even when we feel most alone. 

2020, April 3.

On March 2, BB called from Middle School, he wasn't feeling well. I took him to urgent care and got a positive test for Influenza A. That night, tornadoes tore through middle Tennessee leaving a path of damage over 50 miles long. Two Wilson County schools were completely destroyed. Businesses, buildings, homes, churches were flattened. There was no more school that week. The following week, which was spring break, our schools scrambled to figure out a way to keep these kids in schools, without their buildings. A plan emerged that the displaced kids and teachers would share ~ MJMS kids would use their school from 8-12, WWMS faculty and their students would use it from 1-5. Practices and matches and rehearsals were being rearranged, extended care being discussed, and a plan emerged.

Then, the spread of the virus causing COVID19 exploded globally. People stopped traveling, many stopped going to their offices (including me), grocery shopping became anxiety inducing, and school did not start back with their new plan. The schools here are closed until April 30, officially, but I will be surprised if they go those 13 days of May.

So, effectively, Summer break probably started March 2 for my 4th grader and 6th grader. First year on the tennis team. No games. No TaeKwonDo testing and advancement. No Scouts, no camping. We have a full summer planned with new and exciting opportunities. Will they happen?

I am so very fortunate that I can work from home, as I don't know exactly what I would do with my family if I had to go in every day. There are so many families facing so many hard choices. Livelihoods lost or diminished, fear everywhere. Birthdays, graduations, class trips being missed, memories rearranged. People dying. Mistrust and misinformation sowing seeds of anger, doubt, and fear. I have to both explain this to my boys and shield them from parts of it.

Our silver linings: I am getting to spend so much more time with my boys. Yes, they drive me nuts some of that time, but I am so, so glad to have this time with them. Musicians and artists who are stuck at home are sharing their talents and their gifts so freely online to help us all navigate this locked down life. We have seen so many acts of kindness and generosity.

Robert is still working in health care, and that causes me a lot of worry, but I am grateful that he still has a job to do. But this post is not about those fears.

Grandma

My mother left us one year ago this coming Saturday.

It seems impossible that it has been a year. A year of wanting to hear her voice. A year of firsts without her. Her grandsons' birthday parties with no Grandma. Her Fourth of July birthday. A Mother's day without sending her a card, or getting one from her. Christmas. Thanksgiving. A year of catching my breath and either breaking into a smile or unexpected tears when I come across a photo of her without prepping myself. Intentionally looking at more photos. Knowing how much she would have loved hearing her grandson singing Danny Boy at a concert. Trying not to think of all the things we won't have her for in the coming years, the graduations, weddings... And trying SO very, very hard to be the kind of mother she was.

The boys sometimes ask in their prayers that God tell her "Hello" and that our beloved dog Gnash is snuggling in her lap in heaven.

She would have adored seeing my boys in kilts for the Highland Festival. Or hearing my oldest read a poem for the Veterans on Memorial Day at the National Cemetery. Seeing my youngest in his Cub Scout Uniform reciting the oath. I believe, in my heart, that she does see these things; I guess I selfishly miss seeing her see them with me ~ with my family. Dear God, I miss her every day.

February 2017

School. Cub Scouts. Soccer. School play. Honor choir. Bookworms. Legos. 10 Years together.  Grandma is gone.

Apparently, my moments to pause and reflect are few and far between. Truly, moments are few. I feel as though I am constantly in motion, never get enough sleep, never have enough time with my husband ~ or my boys.

BB is almost 10. LB is almost 7. They are kids now. People. With opinions, personalities, individual talents. We argue. I constantly wonder if I am doing this right, with occasional flashes of validation.

A Personal Best

So, over a year since the last post.  Clearly I am terribly serious about my second career as a writer...

It has just hit me, today, that after this summer, both my boys will be in school. Ride the bus, I have no control over what they are exposed to, exciting, learning, big boy school.  Kindergarten and second grade.  Wow.  No more grabbing LB to rush him to day care on my way to the station.  I will leave the house alone every morning.  I truly wonder how that will feel.  I already feel a bit odd whenever I get into the car alone to go do... anything, really.

They are both so interesting, so individual, so smart, and yet so much still babies.  This is the start of the time where it will really start to show if we are teaching them the important things they need to know to get on in this world.  Kindness, patience, empathy, confidence, independence.  I cannot believe that these little people are so very grown up already.  Our family has changed in so many ways, and I feel like a dreadful historian.

Both of them played soccer last fall, which was great fun, if a bit hectic.  I don't see how people manage running around, spending any time together, commuting, working, and keeping the house inhabitable as well as multiple sports or clubs.  I can just barely keep my head above water, most of the time, and there are never enough minutes in a day to feel like I am teaching my children, or appreciating my husband.  Perhaps I need a bigger washing machine.  Just do it all at once, when their drawers are empty.

This mom thing is the coolest gig ever, though.  No question.  Man, I love those boys.

Three

Three. My "baby" is three.  BB starts kindergarten this Autumn.  I have become an unlikely expert on superheroes and dinosaurs.  I am almost constantly delighted and worried.  What are they going to learn now?  How will it go?  Will school be exciting, scary, both?  (I know the answer for me, I wonder about BB...)  When I step back from the constant cacophony I am startled by these little... people.  And by how much they have changed me.  Mostly for the better, I think, but I was never this scared of all the evil in the world before.  Now I have an almost constant low-grade anxiety for the pieces of my heart which careen off the walls around me.  I want them to be strong and fearless, so I have to show them that.

On the lighter side, we are pretty much done with diapers, with the exception of nighttime ~ Hooah!  Soon our house will be filled with people who can dress, toilet, and brush their teeth without assistance.  I am already imaging what I will do with all my free time... :-)

February 2013

2013.  I keep saying and writing it, but really haven't assimilated.  Another year.  Another anniversary.  Another madcap Christmas with our combined families.  A five year old.  An almost three year old.  I know I am part of this journey, every day... but I often pause and think, "when/how did that happen?"  "How is it 2013?"  We have to register for kindergarten next month.  School.  I'm not even going to try and find words for the maelstrom of conflicting emotions that threaten to unhinge me when I dwell too long on my baby in school.  Some of the feelings are common to mothers everywhere since the inception of centralized education; some are new and tinged with an unspeakable anxiety particular to this age, these days of fear and uncertainty that you might be next.  And you cannot let that dominate.  But I find I cannot pretend it isn't there, either.  So, we dance, internally ~  between faith and fear and strength and paralysis ~ and hope for the best.  But I really didn't want to write about that.  :-)

Big Brother is a clever child, who loves books.  He is doing well in phonics and sounds out words, though frustrates easily.  He is fiercely independent and draws a dozen pictures a day.  His people are now recognizable as such, and often produces robots, spaceships, dinosaurs, and intricate scenarios in his art, which he is eager to explain.  He likes to "shoot" things, and wields a light "saver" (think Star Wars) when he isn't shooting bad guys.  I don't understand where this driving urge to kill imaginary things originates, and we have lots and lots and lots of talks about it (and, see first paragraph) he understands that there are no weapons at school, ever.  Even in Pre-K, there is a subzero tolerance policy in this brave new world.  Mostly, however, he is a delight.  He is clever and funny and verbal and imaginative.  We joke that he will be a director on stage or film, as he scripts out these elaborate scenes and conversations, give you your part/lines:  "Okay, Mommy.  I am going to curl up on the sofa and you try to sit down and you say, 'oh, this feels like a rock.  Wait, it isn't a rock, it is a whale shark.  No, wait, it is an egg.' and then I will wiggle and you say, 'my egg is hatching!' and then I will hatch and you can feed me and then you see that I need a home, so you will bring me home to live with you."  And let me tell you what, if you don't hit your mark or forget a line, watch out!!!  Then you see the quick to frustrate temper tears.  He is a champ of an eater, which is more than I can say for Little Brother.  LB seems to think cheese, hot dogs, french fries, bread, ketchup, and applesauce are the only necessary food groups.  He talks a lot, and is curious and demanding.  He is also an inspired dancer.  He, too, loves books and we spend a lot of time reading together, which makes Mom and Dad very happy. LB is our fearless child, BB is a bit more risk averse in general.   At the risk of oversimplification, is seems that the older child is a bit more like me in temperament, while the younger is a little more like his Daddy.  It will be fun to see how that plays out over time.  We are potty training, and I am very eager for the day when diapers are a thing of the past.  Of course, that will be another one of those transitions which will likely sneak up on my heart in ways I don't now foresee as other pieces of furniture are outgrown.  Though I like to think I won't wax as nostalgic about the changing table as I did the crib.  We shall see.

Have I mentioned lately that this is just fun?  We laugh a lot, I am funnier by the day, if you ask my boys.  I am so incredibly fortunate in my husband and the father of our children.  He balances me in good ways, keeps me from being too type A when he can, and supports me with the patience of a seasoned crisis hostage negotiator psychiatrist on Valium.  Without a prescription, God love him.  :-)   I could easily write a long love letter of a post to my amazing man ~ I'll give some thought to how that should go.

My four minutes of quiet time for this week are over now.  See you in the funny papers.

Our future paleontologist

Five year old birthday breakfast snack

Defenders of the universe... 

Where did they go?

Those tiny little baby boy bodies that couldn't get close enough to me?  Who would calm in a breath as soon as I held them close?  Who needed us for everything?  How have they transformed into these frenetic, chaotic, independent, LOUD little men who literally careen off of the furniture, walls, and each other?  With every new skill, new step toward self actualization, each epiphany; they move away in  infinitesimally small ways... which is a chance for the parent to revel in, to celebrate ~ and mourn all in the same breath.

I'm all weepy, introspective, waxing poetic and philosophical over a crib.  We took it apart.  LB has been in the bunk bed, sharing a room with BB for a month.  So, we finally over-rode the maternal emotional inertia and dismantled it.  Aside from the ever-present diaper pail (a future milestone I feel sure will ONLY bring celebration, without any nostalgia from me), there are so very few vestiges of the babies they were.  And I WANT that, of course.  Watching them grow is pure magic.  The thrill of their synapses wrapping around something new is such a primal, elemental delight for us.  They make us laugh every single day.  It just astounds me how quickly it has happened.  Yes, I know, everyone I know (and people I didn't) all told me it would go so quickly.  Clearly the only thing in the history of my life in which everyone agreed, and got right.

The good news, of course, is that for those who want to visit us, the spare room where the crib resided until this week is a lot more user friendly.  You don't have to circumnavigate the crib as soon as you enter the door, and you can get in and out of the bed from EITHER SIDE.  I know, crazy, right?  The changing pad is gone, so there is room on top of the dresser for a few things.  One might be able to complete an entire weekend visit to us without having to play where-is-there-an-outlet-for my-cell-phone-charger-and-where-did-I-leave-it?  So, we have THAT going for us, which is nice. 

So, we forge on, amazed and excited, astounded, and occasionally wistful on this adventure.  What a ride.  Come visit ~ if you dare!

Two!! How??

So, the "baby" is two now...

And starting to do more and more things like his big brother...

Who is frequently amazingly patient... (although not always)

 

Our little soccer star...

And growing into a pretty awesome big brother.

Each and every day, I am utterly amazed at the miracles in my life.  These three precious boys with whom I get to share my life never cease to amaze, and sometimes bewilder, me. 

The inner workings of the BB brain are a wonder to behold.  He is fascinated with the concept of his next birthday, and has a VERY long list of things he is going to do, when he turns five.  (Eat barbecue, watch Star Wars, wear a necktie, eat guacamole... the list goes on and on and gets longer pretty much every day.)  He often explains things to LB, and is incredibly helpful in a myriad of ways.   He is learning things so fast, they both are.  Frequently (more than I would like, perhaps) he breaks out with something I didn't know that he knew yet.  More frequently, his take on things just makes us laugh out loud.  

Driving past the historical home of a long former president:  

BB: "That's ----'s house."

Me:  "Yes, it is.  But he doesn't live there anymore."

BB:  "Did he move to an apartment?"

Me: Pause... "No, Buddy.  He was President a long, long time ago, and now he is in heaven."

BB:  "Oh.  He died."  Succint, and to the point.  That's our boy.  

The LB turning two was harder on me than I expected.  It just wasn't that long ago that he was so small, and needed me so much.  Now, he's not a baby.  He's - well, he is just such a BOY.  Watching them together is hilarious and heartbreaking, in turns.  They argue and push and grab toys from one another ~ and then turn around and help each other out, share food, build together... BB is sort of bossy, but I guess that comes both with the territory, and with some genetic coding.  (Just ask MY little brother...)  I can already see little ways in which they each seem to resemble us, which is awesome and terrifying.  Hearing your words come from the mouth of a child will make you stop and think, and sometimes worry!   EEEK!  And then BB will say something like talking about our friend who is the "special forest" soldier, and you just crack up. Of course, the rest of that conversation, in which he asked, "because he is really special, right?" was even funnier, as we replied "yes, he really is special."  He will think that is far funnier much, much later.  (Our friend may not be quite so amused...)

This is bad, even for me!

So, a whole year with Daddy away can be neatly summed up by a card sent to us ~  On the front of the card it reads:  "One day you'll look back on this and say..." and you open it to find:  "Well, that sucked!"  And it did.  We all missed him so dreadfully, and he was so very lonely for his family.  But, we are proud of him and what he does to support his brothers and sisters in arms.  Our sacrifices seem small when compared to so many - but on their own, they still feel huge.  But, HE IS HOME.  And we are readjusting nicely, thank you.  He occasionally has to say, "I'm here now..." so I will stop trying to do absolutely everything on my own.   It's pretty cute.

So, BB is almost four and a half and so very interesting.  Some moments he is belligerent in his independence and others he (in his words this week) "always just want to be beside you, Mommy."  He had his first soccer practice yesterday, which was pretty hilarious. It was slightly less chaotic than I anticipated, but then, not everyone was there.  BB had a good time kicking the ball and wearing his new shin guards.  LB stood on the "sidelines" (a bit of a misnomer, since they didn't actually really play on the field so much as kick the ball around randomly in the vicinity of where we were supposed to be) happily munching from his snack cup and squirting his juice box everywhere.  He picked up a few errant soccer balls and brought them back to us, but was otherwise happy to just sort of chill.  I do wonder about actual games, and keeping him out of the fray when he gets that BB will be allowed to play with the ball and he is supposed to sit it out.  We shall see.  They frequently surprise me.  LB has started really using more and more words, and some short sentences.  He kicked me during a diaper change and immediately said what sounded like "sossy mommy."  His favorite friend is "raffe" - as in giraffe.  He knows most of the body parts, and like most toddlers, delights in poking you in the eye or the belly button with great force as he tells you the words for those parts of the anatomy.  He is still a super finicky eater, and some days I despair of getting him to eat real food.  He went through a phase where he ate Vienna Sausages - hardly a real nutritional win, but protein, at least.  Then, out of the blue, throws them at you.  Daddy said to him, "Buddy, it makes me sad to even buy these, but it makes me even sadder to have to throw them away." Both of these boys have established a stubborn, opinionated streak that make me think they may have been switched in hospital, since no one in our family is like that at all.

This has been a full and challenging year and now first quarter of 2012.   To everyone who said, "Cherish these moments, they go by so fast..."  I get it.  You were all right.  It is impossible that LB is almost two and that BB is getting ready to play (however loosely) a team sport.  Where did my babies go?

We now drive a minivan.  Which, sadly, I adore.  It's awesome.  We call it the Batmobile, and it now has cool bat-logo stickers on it.  I envision stealing Adam West's line for many years to come as I tell the family, "To the Batmobile!"  Whatever works, right?  It's way cooler than admitting to the minivan thing.

We are oh-so-very well, and I will (try not to laugh here) endeavor to post more than three or four times this year.

Peace out.

Memory

I am too busy making them, and trying to remember whether we need milk again ~ to remember or make the time to write anything here.  I called this early on, however, so am claiming points for being self-aware, at least.

Two little guys, with more and more interesting personalities every day.  BB is so very articulate, and literate.  Yesterday, he told me he was "not interested in apples for my snack, thank you, Mommy."  Not just no, but, three year old "heck, no."  Some other recent gems:  "Do you have issues, Mommy?  We don't have issues in the car."  "Mustangs are cooler than Jaguars."  "Is that a rice burner or a Harley?"  When asked recently what he wanted for his birthday, he said, "Cake.  And Cookies.  And maybe cupcakes, too."  When the follow up, "what about presents?" was posed; his reply was, "That would be good."  Kid has priorities. 

Things I never thought I would say, and have... "Don't hit the dog with the pumpkin, please."  "Please stop licking me, that's just weird."  "Please don't eat your shoe."  "Don't pee on your brother, that's icky."  "I told you that soap was not going to taste good." 

I have a whole new appreciation, which I shared with my beloved recently, for the business of family dinners.  Not just the cooking of said meal, which everyone knows is not my forte, but the whole process of deciding what to make, getting the ingredients in house, figuring out when it will hit the table, who will eat what, and how to use the least number of dishes possible so that clean up is quick.  I think, after trying this for a while without his abundant talent and expertise to hand; that the most trying part may well be the front end, not the actual cooking.  I told him recently that the next time he asked me what I wanted for dinner that I was going to actually make an effort to give him an answer.  Usually, I am so grateful to have a wonderful cook doing this for us that I have said something along the lines of "it doesn't matter to me, whatever you want to make."  You see, I thought I was being easy to please, accommodating, and expressing my inner feeling that I was happy with anything at all, because I didn't have to cook it.  In reality, I now understand that some sort of an answer is actually helpful, because it takes at least part of that burden, the endless decisions, day after day after day after day of what to make ~ off his plate, pun intended.  Looking at it from the other side of the chopping block has been illuminating, to say the least.  LB has started feeding himself, occasionally with a spoon, with varying levels of success.  Bath night is any night he eats without help. BB is getting more adventurous, loves broccoli, has eaten pad thai noodles, likes rice, satay, and quesadillas.  We went to a Japanese steak house with some friends, talking up how cool it would be to watch them cook the food right in front of you... LB stayed home with a friend, this was a big boy date.  As soon as the chef lit the oil and flames went shooting up from the grill, BB was under the table.  Literally.  It wasn't until all the food was cooked and the chef left that we coaxed him out to eat his food.  He did try eating with some kid friendly chopsticks - and did a pretty good job!

We are all doing well, it is hard to believe how grown up these little guys are already.  It's a blast to watch their relationship develop, the little guy doesn't take any guff from the big one.  He will grab a handful of BB hair and just lay on him.  Pull him right over.  LB is starting to use some words, "no" (complete with head shake) and "dog" being among his favorites.  He still lights up when BB sings to him or kisses him, or pays him the right kind of attention.  A bond of brotherhood is definitely being formed - complete with the contests.  There is a lot of pushing at our house, and I thought I was talking about sharing a lot before ~ I was just warming up.  For Halloween, I wore a striped shirt with a whistle... but it was less of a costume than my current occupation.  I think that whistle is going to come in handy.

Whole new ball game...

So, it's official.  The little guy is walking.  Not well, and not far ~ but he is walking.  And has teeth.  What happened to my little baby?  Now there are little boys in our house.  And they sure are cute together.  Big brother is so very helpful and cute.  He is, as predicted, getting a little possessive of his favorite toys... but most of them are not good for the little brother yet anyway.  Yet.  We have had a lot conversations about sharing, (and I feel sure will have many more) and I have to say that he is, for a three year old, doing pretty darn well with it.  He will even take things over to his little brother (LB from here in) voluntarily, especially if the little guy is unhappy.  He sings to him and only pushes him occasionally.  At this moment, when big brother (BB from here in) pushes him, LB thinks it is HILARIOUS.  He still thinks every bit of attention he gets from BB is pure gold and smiles every time BB opens his mouth.  Our poor dog can't decide how to feel about it.  Bigger boys means better food dropped more often - a definite plus... but mobile boys like to pursue soft fur... not such a plus.  BB likes to feed the puppy, though, which is helpful.  He also can get the key, unlock and open the door, and let the dog in or out into the backyard... which is helpful, but scary.

So, we are muddling through, and I have a whole new definition for the word "tired."  I don't think I really understood it before.  I never have trouble sleeping anymore, which is nice.  The boys are pretty good sleepers, too ~ finally.  It will be better when they are old enough to understand Saturday morning doesn't have to come at 6:00 a.m., though.  That will be what, 13 or so?

Until next time, pleasant journeys.

How do other people do it?

Not that I am competitive... but how do all my friends have time for cool blogs?  I have pretty firmly established that I will get to this about once every three or four months, depending on what is happening in our lives.  Sigh.  So, it is February.  I am not yet finished with my thank you notes from Christmas (very unlike me, and something I should be doing now instead of this...)  The little guys and I are doing well, though we sure do miss Daddy.  It is the little every day things I miss the most.  It is wonderful to see his face and hear his voice on Skype, but it is just not the same.  The boys seem to be coping pretty well, despite the fact that they are stuck with Mom's cooking.  :-)  I know that this is harder on him than on me, because I get to see our kids every day and he does not.  But he is doing his best, and sends notes and things in the mail, and we talk.  Today, February 14, he sent me a beautiful bouquet of roses.  We weren't supposed to do anything.  But they sure are pretty.  Though I miss my husband more than words can express, I am a pretty darn lucky lady.  I am counting my blessings, and they are many. 

November 2010

What a year! I cannot believe it is almost December.  This has been a VERY full year for us, some trying, some amazing.  Our little family is growing so rapidly, and is so much fun to watch.  Yesterday, our newly minted three year old said to his father, "Daddy, we talked about this.  Remember?"  Something I say to him on a frequent basis, I confess.  (Not to Daddy, to the little guy.)  He is precocious, to be certain.  And such a great big brother.  All my fears of his jealousy and displacement seem to be for naught.  Now, when his little brother is mobile and starts getting into his stuff, things may change.  But for now, they are so very sweet to each other.  The surest way to get the baby to laugh is for his big brother to talk or sing to him.  LOVES it.  The little guy has figured out how to roll over and has started "scooting."  Not a crawl, really, but traveling, nonetheless. 

March to September 2010

So... I predicted this, to an extent.  When my life is busy, full, and exciting; I tend not to sit down and record it.  Now, we have two boys, three if you count the dog.  (Which we sometimes do, he needs care, feeding, and love, too!)  Being mom to two is different, but so unbelievably cool.  I sleep less, but function fine.  (I think there is an excellent biological design that allows new parents to do what has to be done, and survive, even enjoy those times which may not appear to be all fun.)  Even with the middle of the night feedings, and that cry that is directly connected to my central nervous system responses;  I know that I will miss this when it is over.  It will be exciting when the little brother is moving and doing things on his own, playing with his big bro; but that time when Mommy is food and solace for everything is precious and indescribable.  It is powerful.  When your kid's face lights up at the sight of you, there is a joy unlike any other. 


The big boy is a source of continuous amazement.  He is so darn smart.  He is growing up so fast, and such a sweet and thoughtful child.  He is a toddler, and is learning about control and independence.  But even as he does, it is phenomenal to see him learning, growing.  Potty training is - well, training.  He does well when he wants to.  But he has to want to.  I confess that while pregnant and immediately post partum, it was a lower priority for us, and he seems to be progressing almost despite my encouragement for that window.  He loves to build things, he loves fire trucks, and says the most entertaining things.  We went to ride Thomas the train a few weeks ago - THAT was fun!