Growing Up and Other Miscellany

I don’t know why I always cry my eyes out at the thought of my newborns leaving their precious, tiny, newborness behind. Yes, yes, I can (and have) wax on and on with great sentiment over little people “growing too fast”.

But . . . I always like the new little people they become so well!

I know, there’s missing and the sorrow of forgetting, but there’s also . . . smiling, and cooing, and sleeping longer at night!

Also, I threw a little, pink jacket on her the other day and braved a run with the jog-stroller!

And “braved” is the correct term. One can’t be sure these new people are sturdy enough not to slump – mid-run – into a miserable little ball of themselves; one can’t be certain they are hearty enough that the wind won’t take their breath away and cause them to panic; one can’t be positive they won’t start screaming several miles away from home.

She did well though! And for a minute I thought perhaps I could start exercising with some regularity again; of course, now the weather has changed to cold, blustery and rainy. Sigh. Between nights with interrupted sleep and mornings that are already far too early – just to get kids ready for school, half-day Kindergarten pick-ups, and Mike’s late nights of work, I fear I shall never exercise routinely again. Weep.

And now, for a few more bits and pieces from the cell phone this past month:

Six of seven:

(Summer was sleeping. Heaven help the person who wakes her. . . .)

This and that:

I love these pictures. Goldie got this particular pig from her aunt Megan when she was first born. She adores pigs. For her last “special day” (one kid gets to go do something special with Mike or me each month) she went to see Mike’s co-worker’s piglets.

Speaking of “special days”, Daisy’s was in September. She and Mike went to some pottery place. She got to paint her own little piece – which came back the next week (after firing) bright and shiny as could be.

These!!! Swoon. Her recently-developed chubby arms, her soft skin, her chin and neck, her little sleeping pout!

And . . . learning to bat at things. I always feel like my babies are geniuses when they do things like . . . bat at something, or . . . like . . . grow teeth.

Also, Halloween décor is up. Last week pretended to still be summer with near 90 degree days, but, the weekend simply begged to be filled with cornstalks and pumpkins by bringing in rain and 60 degree temps. Penny kept holding Anders hand and walking him past the “Ghost Crossing” sign. Eventually that had to be done in costumes from the basement.

Again . . . I’m noticing my older two are far too absent in my pictures. I like them. Where are they all the time? Is it their busier schedules? Their unwillingness? (Can’t be totally that. Daisy is typically willing when pressed.) What kind of a mother am I?

Which reminds me of last night when Abe dropped the Creamie he was eating right on his math homework and I instinctively said, “Haha! Abe just dropped his Creamie on his homework.” and then wonderingly, “What kind of a mother would say that?”

“That’s what I was about to ask,” Abe said.

Ah well. At least I’m the kind of mother who gives a homework-doing kid a Creamie in the first place!

October, Asthma, Handling It, And So Forth

Mike recently informed several of our kids that he was “raising crust eaters; not a bunch of sissies.”

Thank goodness.

We have ONE branch of fall leaves in our backyard. Just one. The rest of the tree is still totally green. (Shrug.)

I think I might have officially decided October is my favorite month. I could never quite admit it because, you know, December has Christmas music; but October . . . has leaves, and crisp air, and pumpkins, and a more pleasant and simple amount of holiday decorating required, . . . and the ANTICIPATION of Christmas music just around the corner!

This has been Jesse’s daily medicine requirements of late:

The truths that there are much more difficult problems to face, and that we are incredibly blessed to live when we do – with access to what we have access to – make us grateful, but don’t necessarily delete the reality of the problem. I worry a great deal about his struggles to breathe normally; his swollen eyes and nasal passages; his scratched raw, and bleeding skin. I worry about my suitability as a mother to him – knowing other mothers might be much better at trying alternative treatments, implementing rigid diets, or eliminating allergens than I seem to have to wherewithal to be.

Though, perhaps I can take some small credit for encouraging confidence in himself and his abilities to cope. Only a little of course. It’s mostly  in himself, but I loved this recent conversation (held after one of two allergist appointments and between rounds of nebulizer treatments).

“Mom,” Jesse asked me. “Why am I allergic to so many things?”

“I don’t know, bud,” I sighed – feeling a bit discouraged myself. “It’s just one of your hard things in this life.”

“Yah,” he agreed; then added, solemnly and with conviction, “but I can handle it.”

Dear boy.

I hope, in later years, and through different struggles, he’ll find encouragement in the words and certainty of his little five-year-old self.

But if a time ever comes when he doesn’t? I think we’ve all got his back (as evidenced by this conversation):

Jesse: “Mom, I’m a little bit scared because I think the doctor said something about . . . cutting . . . something.”
Me: “About cutting something? I don’t think so Jesse. There’s no reason they’d need to cut you.”
Penny (interrupting – loudly, protectively and indignantly): “Besides Jesse, I would rather have them cut me than you!”

Also . . . the little boys desperately need haircuts. And who knows, maybe we’ll give them to them someday.

And . . . now I am rethinking my bold “October is my favorite month” statement from a moment ago. It just feels a bit disloyal . . . like I’ve hurt December’s feelings after all it’s given me of twinkly lights, and magic childhood memories, and Christmas trees. . . . So . . . I don’t know. I’m still not saying a favorite. I envy Mike the ease and confidence with which he can claim Thanksgiving to be his favorite holiday. He doesn’t seem to feel the slightest ounce of betrayal to the other holidays.