Forever and Today
I am a rational human being. Okay, maybe that is overstating it a bit. I am a human being capable of rational thought. I know my children will grow. I know they will get bigger. I know things will change. When older and wiser folks tell me to enjoy these days because they go by so fast, I nod in appreciation of their comments, clearly acknowledging the truth in these statements.
But not really. In reality I spend these days sandwiched between baby puke and snotty noses, thinking that they will go on forever. And how can I not feel that way? When you are awakened from your peaceful slumber by a poop-encrusted-bottomed infant screaming for milk it tends to interfere with rational thought.
The thing that clued me in to the fact that I was not really facing reality was the new Facebook timeline. I scanned back to 2008. Who were those chubby little faces? (Not mine - it's still just as chubby as ever) Joe and Judah - so little ? Really could that be? My boys, babies- toddlers- infants? Yes it was so and Facebook can prove it.
I can hardly believe that I have been responsible for other human lives for 6 years now. The work is daunting, repetitive, messy, demanding and often unappreciated. But when I stand back and look at it, heck, that's not's so bad. I've been keeping small people alive for over half a decade. There have been some close calls, but none of the boys has been electrocuted (See May 2009 for that close call) or beheaded. In fact, despite some evidence to the contrary, they even seem to be shaping into wonderful human beings.
Today Joe wrote a book. A whole book. Of his own accord, he gathered paper, stapled it together, hand wrote the story (with only a few spelling assists from me) and illustrated it. He even got Judah to choose it as his bed time story to read before bed. Compelling story as well, what with a tiger who liked to play ball, and an illness and a recovery. All very thrilling. First rate little storyteller I have. He must get that from his dad. Last time I tried telling the boys a bed time story it digressed to the point where Al the Alligator followed his dream to become a car salesman.
Back to my point. Actually I'm not sure I really had one except to say that these kids are growing up. They are still so little and they still drip snot on me and cover me with encrustations of food, but there is no chance they will stay that way. I love them to pieces though. I cherish the snot. Well, that's going a bit too far, but you get my point.
*
Speaking of people who grow up, Asher is 8 months. He eats food on his own (cheerios, soft banana, leftover gum wrappers, you get the idea), he has one tooth. He climbs the stairs (against my will), he crawls, he sits, he stands, he cruises (all of these activities remain unsanctioned and unstoppable) he makes loud embarrassing grunting noises while nursing (I learned this the hard way while trying to nurse him during Sunday service. Never again!), he has an aversion to any foods of the green variety unless they are mixed with equal parts applesauce, and he remains the most cheerful, sweetest, agreeable baby known to the face of the earth.
Poor third child though, he's gonna be a scrapper. This particular day his brother Judah had pulled off his pants and somehow managed to arrange his onesie around his waist like a skirt. The same brother also supplied him with the green paint on his forehead. At lease he seems unfazed by it all.
But not really. In reality I spend these days sandwiched between baby puke and snotty noses, thinking that they will go on forever. And how can I not feel that way? When you are awakened from your peaceful slumber by a poop-encrusted-bottomed infant screaming for milk it tends to interfere with rational thought.
The thing that clued me in to the fact that I was not really facing reality was the new Facebook timeline. I scanned back to 2008. Who were those chubby little faces? (Not mine - it's still just as chubby as ever) Joe and Judah - so little ? Really could that be? My boys, babies- toddlers- infants? Yes it was so and Facebook can prove it.
I can hardly believe that I have been responsible for other human lives for 6 years now. The work is daunting, repetitive, messy, demanding and often unappreciated. But when I stand back and look at it, heck, that's not's so bad. I've been keeping small people alive for over half a decade. There have been some close calls, but none of the boys has been electrocuted (See May 2009 for that close call) or beheaded. In fact, despite some evidence to the contrary, they even seem to be shaping into wonderful human beings.
Today Joe wrote a book. A whole book. Of his own accord, he gathered paper, stapled it together, hand wrote the story (with only a few spelling assists from me) and illustrated it. He even got Judah to choose it as his bed time story to read before bed. Compelling story as well, what with a tiger who liked to play ball, and an illness and a recovery. All very thrilling. First rate little storyteller I have. He must get that from his dad. Last time I tried telling the boys a bed time story it digressed to the point where Al the Alligator followed his dream to become a car salesman.
Back to my point. Actually I'm not sure I really had one except to say that these kids are growing up. They are still so little and they still drip snot on me and cover me with encrustations of food, but there is no chance they will stay that way. I love them to pieces though. I cherish the snot. Well, that's going a bit too far, but you get my point.
*
Speaking of people who grow up, Asher is 8 months. He eats food on his own (cheerios, soft banana, leftover gum wrappers, you get the idea), he has one tooth. He climbs the stairs (against my will), he crawls, he sits, he stands, he cruises (all of these activities remain unsanctioned and unstoppable) he makes loud embarrassing grunting noises while nursing (I learned this the hard way while trying to nurse him during Sunday service. Never again!), he has an aversion to any foods of the green variety unless they are mixed with equal parts applesauce, and he remains the most cheerful, sweetest, agreeable baby known to the face of the earth.
Poor third child though, he's gonna be a scrapper. This particular day his brother Judah had pulled off his pants and somehow managed to arrange his onesie around his waist like a skirt. The same brother also supplied him with the green paint on his forehead. At lease he seems unfazed by it all.
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