Oh, my boys. How fast it did fly. This month gone by.
Yes, it is rhyming, everything that comes out of my mouth rhymes. A penchant for rhyme I have picked up since your birth. Someday I will no longer talk in a sing song rhyming voice (to adults as well as children, I cannot seem to find the off button). It works for now. When I am not yelling the word No! as you both attempt some dare devilry stunt on the edge of some dangerous precipice. I prefer the rhyming.
This month was a endless secession of events,; from our bbq,
trips to the beach
and to other family events…it all went so quickly and without too much time to take a breath and recollect. I guess that is what this is for.
Amidst all of the summer celebrations, we continued the saga of teething. The molars of Mace move slower than ancient glaciers….giving little rest to a hurting and occasionally very angry little boy (by the way, if you are keeping track, that would be three months to the day to get 4 molars in). Owen, you weather the storm and occasionally contribute to the melee, but we are all almost through. Mama still has not learned to give in when a disturbed sleep cycle comes up. She got used to going to bed a little later, then a little later, then too late but she was getting a good chunk most nights. Until we all lost it again. Argg. When will she learn?
This month gave us crayons and new shoes, big boy shoes with laces and soles. It gave us climbing and falling, and so much more.
A new development came with sitting to concentrate. For Mason, you are the king of Legos, patiently exploring options for 20 minutes. Owen, you are king of organization, patiently attempting to return errant crayons to their place for 40 minutes, in your seat, at the table. Emphasis added as you will not even sit in that thing for 10 minutes for meals. 40 minutes. No joke.
My mind races trying to decide which thoughts to capture from this time, what memories I want to come back to later, in a few months, a few years when this time has faded.
There are a choice few:
- In the dead of the night Mason was having a terrible time of it and I was walking him, his cries loud and frantic. Owen, I heard you rustling around, then sit up and very clearly say, “Mama, no no no no no no!” then lay back down.
- Watching your naked bottoms run around our friends’ lawn, post pool. Oblivious to the scratching of the sharp blades on your skin, chasing a huge barrel of balls around. So free and excited to be free, avoiding any attempts at diaper placement.
- Facing each other on the kitchen floor, giggling as I caught a glimpse of you over the island table, feeding each other pretzels and looking in each others’ eyes, the laughter rolling out of you so spontaneous, so full, so alive and with each other.
- The endless attempts to grab your penises at every given chance, even during dirty diaper changes (the phrase, ‘Do not touch your pee-pee when you are poo-poo’ is highly ineffective.
- The words; the words rolling out, the imitations, the use in context, the adamant way you demand that we all acknowledge a BALL is a BALL. The Mamas and the Daddys, the running with the phones to say “hello” though it never sounds like that. The joy I feel as you move toward verbal communication.
I know these monthly updates will start to fall away, it all moves so fast now. I contemplate returning to work to help the family, finding out if we can explore options for Montessori, deciding what we need to address as a growing family with babies who now reach to be boys.
I want to remember the first time you strummed the guitar or ran out of your crib in the morning to look for your Daddy who now goes into work at the crack of dawn so he can come home early to share more time with you. Sure, there are still those times when I am just wishing for the close of the day, when I can tuck you in and walk out and collect myself. But that feeling seems to be experienced less and less as the time races away.
I am loving you, boys. I m loving you so very, very much.