Brain dump
Just a blink was all it took for this summer to slip slide away. I am so afraid of forgetting it, for we have found ourselves in such a precious time of our lives.
The last summer of having two truly-little boys.
For the first time, Aden's sweet two-year-old speech in conversation with his brother. Melts. My. Heart.
Realizing what an incredible blessing it is that Brandon can spend a few months with his boys, not having to go to work. Oh, how they need that man time.
A season I want to remember.
With vacation last week, it just sort of happened that I took nine days off from the computer. Never read a news article, never checked the weather, didn't read a single blog post. I did sign onto email once (to send something) and put up our beach pics, but that's it. It was liberating.
Also liberating was the fact that, for the larger part of those nine days, I had no idea what time it was. And didn't have to know. Just got to relax. Really, really relax and enjoy my family. Nice. Probably the way it should be more of the time.
Loved, loved the Olympics. Incredible what those folks can do. Oh, how my heart soared for the sweet girls on the gymnastics team. Excited to see all of Phelps' medals, and at the same time hoping against hope that Lochte would beat his cocky tail. (Did I say that?) The volleyball, the rowing, the tennis, the running. Incredible.
Vinegar has continued to serve me well. A vinegar and baking soda paste scrubbed into a set-in-for-years T-shirt stain faded it significantly. (The stain, not the shirt.) The same paste left to sit for a while on the blackened, crusty remains of a boil-over on the glass stovetop allowed it to be easily wiped clean. Haven't researched it, but I am hoping that vinegar might just be skilled at taking pen marks off walls and super-sticky stickers off windows. We'll see.
I hesitate to say this, because at any moment it could deteriorate, but every single last closet in this house has been overhauled and organized. And I know where everything is.
Um, except for the blood pressure cuff from the boys' pretend doctor kit. And a few shapes from the shape sorter. And likely a few other things that have gone into the out of sight, out of mind corner of my brain.
But the closets sure are nice to look at.
My sweet, stubborn Aden continues to grow teeth and a very unique personality. Brandon is the only person on the planet he responds to as far as any discipline goes. Seriously, I might as well not even say anything when Aden starts to disobey. The words go out into the void like a vanishing mist. I have to fight (sometimes unsuccessfully) the natural inclination to shout repeatedly, against the naivety that maybe, just maybe, he didn't hear me and that's the reason he's not obeying.
Yeah, that's not the reason.
Poor kid has to learn things on his own and just will not be told anything. By anyone except Brandon. Aden is two. Read: pouting and tantrums have begun. And even with his anger and independence issues, he is so very sweet and cuddly, still loves to snuggle me. With his monkey and thumb, of course.
He loves singing and dancing, climbing and jumping, "run-NING" with his brother. For every other activity his attention span is approximately 17 seconds. That may be generous. When Trey is not around, he talks constantly. Is extremely laid back and just goes with the flow.
Uses the potty when he wants to. And only when he wants to. Really just wants to be naked all the time.
And that's my Aden.
And that's about all the ammo I have to avoid the gigantic elephant in the room, that of what is now a mere six days away. The rite of passage that my other sweet boy will nervously undergo in less than a week.
I don't know if I'll get to walk him to his classroom. If I do, the prayer is that I can get back into the car before it gets ugly. The cry, that is. Oh yeah, it's coming. To the extent that I have taken that day off work, knowing how difficult it is to type and project-plan during the ugly cry.
If I don't get to walk him to his classroom, the prayer is that he will be bold enough to go in (and stay) on his own. For if he doesn't, I'll be forced to push him down the hall and into his room, him screaming til he throws up and me in the ugly cry. That'll be a picture.
Oh, it will be a story to tell, either way. We've gone back to talking up school. He got a great teacher and learned that a good family friend is in his class. We got all of his supplies, labeled them and packed them up to take. He has a super-cool backpack. We've gone over the lunchtime process, making sure he can open and close the containers for his lunchbox and fit them all back in.
So he's ready, at least technically. Emotionally, who knows. When asked about school, Trey will say he's not sure. That we'll have to wait and see.
At least he's not freaking out like I am.
Brandon has gone back to school as of this week. It is strange to be back in our routine from last year, all the while knowing it will only last a few days. Then we'll need to, yet again, find the new normal for our family. Normal is fleeting. One of the lessons of age.
Speaking of, my 31st birthday was spent at the beach. Brandon seems to think I'm getting cranky in my old age. Not sure why though - I'm just as cranky as I've always been.
Anyway, as weepy as I am over losing time with Trey, I am almost giddy over the one-on-one time with Aden. It's never been just him. I am excited to really get to know him, hopefully connect with him, and catch up on all the things I haven'thad taken time to teach him. This change will be good for all of us. A little sad, but good. And thus is the march of time.
So there is my world. As the mountains are practically sparkling in the clear, weightless pre-fall air, for us it's back to early bedtimes, packing lunches, and a steady routine that somehow makes everyone act a little better.
But I will miss this summer. It sure has been a good one. Derecho and all.
The last summer of having two truly-little boys.
For the first time, Aden's sweet two-year-old speech in conversation with his brother. Melts. My. Heart.
Realizing what an incredible blessing it is that Brandon can spend a few months with his boys, not having to go to work. Oh, how they need that man time.
A season I want to remember.
With vacation last week, it just sort of happened that I took nine days off from the computer. Never read a news article, never checked the weather, didn't read a single blog post. I did sign onto email once (to send something) and put up our beach pics, but that's it. It was liberating.
Also liberating was the fact that, for the larger part of those nine days, I had no idea what time it was. And didn't have to know. Just got to relax. Really, really relax and enjoy my family. Nice. Probably the way it should be more of the time.
Loved, loved the Olympics. Incredible what those folks can do. Oh, how my heart soared for the sweet girls on the gymnastics team. Excited to see all of Phelps' medals, and at the same time hoping against hope that Lochte would beat his cocky tail. (Did I say that?) The volleyball, the rowing, the tennis, the running. Incredible.
Vinegar has continued to serve me well. A vinegar and baking soda paste scrubbed into a set-in-for-years T-shirt stain faded it significantly. (The stain, not the shirt.) The same paste left to sit for a while on the blackened, crusty remains of a boil-over on the glass stovetop allowed it to be easily wiped clean. Haven't researched it, but I am hoping that vinegar might just be skilled at taking pen marks off walls and super-sticky stickers off windows. We'll see.
I hesitate to say this, because at any moment it could deteriorate, but every single last closet in this house has been overhauled and organized. And I know where everything is.
Um, except for the blood pressure cuff from the boys' pretend doctor kit. And a few shapes from the shape sorter. And likely a few other things that have gone into the out of sight, out of mind corner of my brain.
But the closets sure are nice to look at.
My sweet, stubborn Aden continues to grow teeth and a very unique personality. Brandon is the only person on the planet he responds to as far as any discipline goes. Seriously, I might as well not even say anything when Aden starts to disobey. The words go out into the void like a vanishing mist. I have to fight (sometimes unsuccessfully) the natural inclination to shout repeatedly, against the naivety that maybe, just maybe, he didn't hear me and that's the reason he's not obeying.
Yeah, that's not the reason.
Poor kid has to learn things on his own and just will not be told anything. By anyone except Brandon. Aden is two. Read: pouting and tantrums have begun. And even with his anger and independence issues, he is so very sweet and cuddly, still loves to snuggle me. With his monkey and thumb, of course.
He loves singing and dancing, climbing and jumping, "run-NING" with his brother. For every other activity his attention span is approximately 17 seconds. That may be generous. When Trey is not around, he talks constantly. Is extremely laid back and just goes with the flow.
Uses the potty when he wants to. And only when he wants to. Really just wants to be naked all the time.
And that's my Aden.
And that's about all the ammo I have to avoid the gigantic elephant in the room, that of what is now a mere six days away. The rite of passage that my other sweet boy will nervously undergo in less than a week.
I don't know if I'll get to walk him to his classroom. If I do, the prayer is that I can get back into the car before it gets ugly. The cry, that is. Oh yeah, it's coming. To the extent that I have taken that day off work, knowing how difficult it is to type and project-plan during the ugly cry.
If I don't get to walk him to his classroom, the prayer is that he will be bold enough to go in (and stay) on his own. For if he doesn't, I'll be forced to push him down the hall and into his room, him screaming til he throws up and me in the ugly cry. That'll be a picture.
Oh, it will be a story to tell, either way. We've gone back to talking up school. He got a great teacher and learned that a good family friend is in his class. We got all of his supplies, labeled them and packed them up to take. He has a super-cool backpack. We've gone over the lunchtime process, making sure he can open and close the containers for his lunchbox and fit them all back in.
So he's ready, at least technically. Emotionally, who knows. When asked about school, Trey will say he's not sure. That we'll have to wait and see.
At least he's not freaking out like I am.
Brandon has gone back to school as of this week. It is strange to be back in our routine from last year, all the while knowing it will only last a few days. Then we'll need to, yet again, find the new normal for our family. Normal is fleeting. One of the lessons of age.
Speaking of, my 31st birthday was spent at the beach. Brandon seems to think I'm getting cranky in my old age. Not sure why though - I'm just as cranky as I've always been.
Anyway, as weepy as I am over losing time with Trey, I am almost giddy over the one-on-one time with Aden. It's never been just him. I am excited to really get to know him, hopefully connect with him, and catch up on all the things I haven't
So there is my world. As the mountains are practically sparkling in the clear, weightless pre-fall air, for us it's back to early bedtimes, packing lunches, and a steady routine that somehow makes everyone act a little better.
But I will miss this summer. It sure has been a good one. Derecho and all.
Comments