Days 121 - 129

Dear Henry,

There's this song that's been out a couple years on country radio about this guy in a bar (shocker) complaining about how bad everything is -- his wife's pregnant again with their fifth kid or something, they're broke, the washing machine died, etc. -- and his buddy tells him, essentially, to suck it up, that's just life.  Well, not going to lie.  It really is.

It's been hard keeping up with these letters with any regularity (this one's nearly two weeks late and that's just crap, really) because of life.  Car troubles, chores, work (and work and work and more work), your brother's mystery illness, your teething, blah blah blah.  At the end of the day (if I'm not working) all I want to do is fall into bed as soon as humanly possibly.  We're definitely in "keep your head down and slog through" mode and it's not fun and it's not fair to you.  

So I'm going to try to do better.  And I'm going to try to have a better attitude during the day, because you can't help it if teething sucks and walking is frustrating when you trip on thin air and your brother keeps trying to give you hugs when all you want is to play with your damn train.  And the amount of work I do is ultimately, I suppose, my choice.  And there will always be car troubles and odd fevers and broken dishwashers, but there will not always be you being this age.  

I love you, tiny man.

Mama

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

Charlie was making goofy faces at Henry while we were riding in the car this morning.  

"You're a nutter butter," I told him, laughing.

His silly face went serious instantly.  "I am not a nutter butter.  I've told you that, like, ten times.  Just calm down."

If you're ever unaware of the things you say repeatedly to your kids, they will let you know.  I think maybe some of it gets lost in translation, though.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

I may not have been writing much, but I've been taking pictures like crazy.  So at least there's that.  These two are my recent favorites.

Days 114 - 120

Dear Henry,

It has not been an easy week, kiddo.  You're teething four molars at one time, plus a wee bottom front tooth.  It has made you, uh, cranky.  Add to that what must be a growth spurt, because you're eating everything in sight (and throwing it back up because of the teething, but it's not stopping you from trying) and me being cranky because my days are impossibly long and filled with stupid, tedious work.  Well, it's not a good combo, really.

And then you'll have a random burst of awesomeness, walking suddenly without thinking about it or rolling around in the blanket fort your brother built or having a crazy giggle fit.  You're one of those people, I think, who swings wide emotionally, but nobody can ever say you're boring.  Whether it's positive or negative, you've got passion.  Kind of wish you'd direct it toward things like begin passionate about sitting still for diaper changes or passionate about not screaming at me when you're done waiting for dinner and why is it not on the table already?!  But, you know, beggars can't be choosers and all that.

I know you've been having to put up with my own mood swings lately and thanks for that.  We'll get ourselves sorted out soon enough.  I hope.

Love,
Mama

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

Y'all, I am so everloving tired.  Everything in the world has been nonstop for the past few weeks and I guess it's catching up to me, because all I want in life is to go to bed around 8:00.  Work is killing me lately and I'm struggling to find time for the photography work I need to be doing, but the sessions I'm logging are helping remind me it's worth it and this, too, shall pass.  It might not be blogged about much, but it'll pass.

~*~*~*~*~*~

On the days when the sun decides to come out (I HATE SPRING, HAVE I MENTIONED HOW MUCH I HATE SPRING, BECAUSE I HATE IT -- stupid rain), we've been spending all the time we can outside.  After a terribly unfortunate attempt to visit the butterfly gardens in DC last week, Charlie and I are starting our own butterfly gardens up on the hill where the decrepit blackberry bushes live.  

I was all, "This is going to be a great idea, it'll be so pretty and I can use it for some sessions, too, so double score!"  And then I got up there.  

 That's a lot of garden, y'all.  Five rows of those bushes, probably about 40 or so feet long each.  And it's me, a 3-year-old, a 1-year-old and a shovel.  I mean, not impossible or anything, but it's a mountain made of rocks.  The ground isn't exactly soft and loamy.  We might be at this a while.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~

Speaking of outside, these are just for fun.  So I can remember what the *bleep* that is.

Days 109 - 113

Dear Henry,

I'm sorry about the lack of letters lately (by lately, do not read always -- I have posted more than once a week...mostly).  I've been exhausted, almost as much as when you were first born.  I'm so, so sorry that work has been locking me away until all hours, but I want you to know I do appreciate the days I have you and your brother to myself.  

You've started walking, tentatively.  You're still mostly crawling, but like this afternoon I set you down and you toddled over from the Lego table to Daddy's chair to get something (most likely a stale Cheerio).  It's so odd to see you doing it on your own.  Your brother was just huge by the time he was your age and it was somehow easier for that.  With you, though, you've always been tiny (not so much now, I guess) and I just keep seeing you as that little 4 pound baby we brought home from the hospital.  It's hard for me to judge your growth, being so close to you every day, but sometimes it smacks me in the face.

You've gotten silly in your old age, too.  One of your favorite things to do is roll around on our big bed, flipping into the covers and having us bounce you.  You like to put things on your head and show us all the toys of your brother's that you've stolen.  That's only going to be amusing to him for about another week, just so you know.  You're saying more words, using some sign language (by "some", I mean one gesture -- "all done", which you use to tell us you're finished eating, and also that you want us to stop changing your diaper), playing properly with toys, being a big boy.  Sigh.

I know I write about this a lot.  Like A LOT, a lot.  But it's just been especially apparent this past week and I wanted you to know this about yourself when you're older and reading this:  you grow fast.  This is me not missing any of it.

Love,
Mama

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

I was doing laundry the other day (SHOCKER) when Charlie came running up to me, bawling, huge tears streaming down his face.  I thought the TV had fallen on him or he lost a leg.  Of course, I scooped him up and was checking him over while I asked him what was wrong.

"I hurt my fiiiiinger."

"Oh, honey, let me look at it."  I checked.  Nothing.  "Well...what happened?"

"It huuuuuurts."  

"Well, okay, but why?"

"I tooooooooooted on it."

I am not even kidding, y'all.  I'm just...I don't even...

~*~*~*~*~*~

I loved, loved, doing the "day in a life" pictures last week.  If I remember (HAHAHAHAHAHA, ahem) I'd love to do a day every year, maybe the same day.  Anyway, there were so many pictures and I tried to be brutal paring them down, so this one didn't make the original cut, but, oh, I love it.

Days 106 - 108

Dear Henry,

Today you took a 3.5 hour nap.  I watched an entire movie.  IN ONE SITTING.  It was amazing.  I just wanted to say thank you and I love you and I will buy you a car if you'll do that on a regular basis.  Oh, wait, you don't have a car as you're reading this?  Yeah, well.  Whose fault is that?

I still love you a whole lot.

Mama

~*~*~*~*~*~

Today, I did a little project for no reason at all.  I took pictures every hour (usually more than once during the hour) from when we got up until the boys went to bed to document one day in our lives.  I've been wanting to do this for a while now, but never remember until it's a halfway through the day or it's a day when the kids are at daycare (because, let me tell you, a photo ever hour on a day when it's just me here working would be pretty boring).  

It's not really for anything, except maybe posterity.  It's a good time in our lives.  The boys are both at (mostly) fun ages.  We're young and healthy and in love.  Until I say these words out loud and bring down poxes upon our heads, we've got no serious problems.  Mike and I have been stressed out lately and there are always lots of little things to get worked up over, but we're all here, we're all in one piece, we're all together.  Maybe that's why I wanted to do it?  As a reminder that, yeah, day-to-day sucks.  But every day doesn't.

~*~*~*~*~*~

To narrate this out a bit, words first, then pictures.  To be clear, most days aren't like this; we had quite a few special things today, like Mike being home this morning to do some vehicle repairs, extra long naps, take-out for dinner.  It was largely a sweet, angst-free day with a couple chores tossed in for good measure, though, and if I had to have a record of any day, this was a pretty good one.

(Also, my apologies for the enormity of this post.  I tried to do one of those cute wee grid things, but Blogger hates me and refused.  So one giant, long, annoying line of pictures it is.)

Wake up.

Breakfast.

Laundry.

Henry's morning nap.

My play time with the boys (spinning, in this particular instance).

Potty break.

Charlie helping Daddy with maintenance work.

Lunch.

Calm down cartoon.

Afternoon naps.

Shower!

Movie!

Post-nap snacks.

Outside play.

Dinner (picked up on the way home by Daddy, woohoo!).

More outside play.

More laundry.

Inside calm play.

Calm down show (Charlie chose "How It Works").

Bed.

 

 

Day 105

Dear Henry,

Today, some perfectly nice people were having a perfectly nice day in Boston and someone bad hurt them.  That event, specifically, is something I'm sure you'll be able to read about in old news articles and history books.  That's not what I want to talk about right now.

What I want to talk about is how bad things have always happened in our world, and they will always continue to happen so long as our world exists.  People do bad things every. single. day.  Some days are worse than others; some days no one ever forgets.  But the most important thing to remember about all that is for every bad thing that happens, a hundred good things happen.   

Strangers run towards harm to help.  Friends check on one another.  Policemen and firemen and emergency responders don't sleep until they've done all they can.  People donate blood.  People donate money.  People donate time.  People pray or send out good energy or do a good deed to negate the bad.  Life, the connection in all of us, has this big, bright surge of power because all the good is rising up, bigger and stronger than the bad, and it always wins.  

I know you'll hear people say it doesn't win, that good gets trampled on and torn to bits.  But it doesn't.  I know for certain it doesn't, because we who hold life will keep running hard races and building tall buildings and going to college and driving our cars and all the things in between.  I know it because you fit into your daddy's hand when you were born and there is no possible way you should exist.  You shouldn't have been able to yell at me today because I took your brother's Hot Wheels out of your mouth or take a nap that wasn't long enough or play peek-a-boo with our neighbor.  But you do.  

Because the power of life is strong and we, as a whole, are amazing.  

Love,
Mama

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

The kids and I went on another geocache hunt today.  We failed epically (because I only had my phone for GPS and it had no signal on the mountain where we were; next time we'll use the satellite GPS -- we haven't given up entirely!).  I was disappointed myself and was afraid Charlie would be upset at not finding a new treasure, but we brought a marble along to put into the box in return for whatever we found and he dug it out.

"It's okay, Mom," he told me, "I'll just put this here so someone else can find a treasure."  And then he tucked it under the bridge we'd crossed and we hiked back to the car and that was that.  It was sweet and kind and reminded me that just being out and doing something with them is the best part.  

We had a lovely walk by a lovely lake.  We saw new flowers and threw rocks into the leaves.  Henry fussed (because that's what he does) and Charlie ran until he had to lie down in the middle of the path and I got a bit of a sunburn, and it was really, really fun.  I'm proud of my kid for his thoughtfulness and I'm proud of me for not being afraid to get out with the boys, even though it's not all smiles and happy noises.  

Also, I really hope an animal doesn't eat that marble.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Because something pretty right now wouldn't go amiss.

Days 103 & 104

Dear Henry,

You have seriously been eating like you've got a hollow leg lately, dude.  It's amazing.  You're eating portions the same size or larger than your big brother's all. the. time.  You cannot possibly be in a month-long growth spurt, but I don't know any other way to explain it.  You've always been food motivated, but, I mean, come on.  You're 20 pounds, max.  There's no place to put it.

I suppose it's got to do with you gearing up to walk properly and all this outside play we've been doing.  I'm grudgingly letting go of my hatred of spring as the warm days are starting to outnumber the cold, dreary, rainy ones.  (I shouldn't say this.  I know what I'm about to bring down on us all.  Sorry, kiddo, if we now have to spend the next six weeks locked in the house.)  And you seem to be letting go of your hatred of the world (I also shouldn't say this) the more flowers and grass and buzzy bees you encounter.

Long story short, thanks for the fun lately, but we're going to have to break some child labor laws if you keep up with this appetite.  Someone has to pay those grocery bills, you know.

Love,
Mama

~*~*~*~*~*~

Frankly, the weather's been damn near idyllic this past week.  We've spent every single day outside to some extent or another, me lamenting the work I need to do in my flower beds and the boys running amok.  There was a possibility of seeing the northern lights from our area last night, so Mike and I even went out with a blanket and laid on the hill behind the house after the boys fell asleep.  We only froze a little bit, but the fresh air has been like a drug.  One hit and you have to have more right now.

So anyway, all that to say this.  This weekend I was holed up in my office an awful lot and we didn't get much family together time, let alone outdoor time.  I've been sort of vaguely contemplating geocaching (come on, y'all, it's treasure hunting for real) for a couple years and finally decided that today was the day.  WE WERE GOING TO BE A FAMILY TOGETHER OUTSIDE OR SO HELP ME...  

So after I got my work done, we loaded up the kids and went on our first hunt.  And then our second.  I was a moron who initially couldn't figure out how to find out where we were, let alone the box, so Mike had to handle navigating the first one, but then I TOTALLY got it and found the second cache myself (except for that part where Mike had to actually dig it out).  Our treasure was a string of Mardi Gras beads, and we left a pack of rocketship stickers for the next hunters. 

Y'all.  SO.  MUCH.  FUN.  Henry was nonplussed, but that's his default mode.  I think Mike may have been mostly going along with it to humor me ("Sure, hon, let's totally go do this thing if it gets that crazy look out of your eyes, I mean, makes you happy..."), but Charlie and I were totally into it.   

I'm so taking the kids out again tomorrow.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

And because no post is complete without a picture of Henry with a plastic hot dog in his face...

Days 99 - 102

Dear Henry,

The last couple days, you've started taking your first "real" steps.  You've been walking via cruising and pushing your train for a while now, and you've even taken a couple tentative steps without holding on, but this evening in particular you were standing alone for a long period, then taking two or three steps before toppling.

You're more than ready.  You gave up baby food weeks ago, you've started repeating words with more frequency and clarity (sigh, one you've gotten down particularly well is "dump" -- why can't I have children with even a modicum of daintiness?), your signals are getting easier to read, you're initiating games and interactive play (sigh again, mostly wrestling with your brother).  You're done with babyhood and that's it.  No more infants in this house. 

I'm not sad about it.  I'm particularly not sad about the two-hour sleep stints at night, but I'm looking forward to this coming year especially.  It was one of my favorite times with your brother, the time when you wee bitty crying things shift from angry, inconsolable, unintelligible parasites (I call y'all that in the most loving of ways) to communicative, creative, contemplative, problem-solving little people.  

I was sitting with you the other morning on the couch, watching you eat your graham cracker, and was struck by the way you studied it as you chewed a bit, reaching with your free hand to poke at a speck of crumb, frowning at it, turning it over to look at the back.  It's not like when you were smaller and would just shove whatever was nearby into your mouth, or even before that when you were only half-conscious as someone else shoved something in your mouth.  A year is nothing in time, but you as a one-year-old both demonstrate and defy that.  You're living, breathing magic.

This has gotten a lot heavier than I intended.  Really I just wanted to say good job on not breaking your face today.  Good job on it all.

Love,
Mama

~*~*~*~*~*~

If I had to have a big brother, I'd want it to be Charlie.  He's protective, patient (mostly -- he's still not a huge fan of Henry's proclivity towards smashing up his patented Car Race™ game), tries to teach Henry all the important life lessons ("Can you say 'big Mack truck', Henry?"), tries to help him do the things he physically can't.  He always makes sure we haven't forgotten Henry when we're going somewhere and that he's included in activities.

Yesterday, he took Henry for a wagon ride.  I seriously almost cried, because Charlie's really big on having someone else pull the wagon with him inside and usually goes on about how haaaaaaaaard it is to pull the wagon and can't youuuuu do it?  He wanted to give Henry the ride and didn't complain once, didn't want any help.  He loves Henry so much, and based on the way Henry tries to climb his brother's face on a daily basis, I think the feeling is mutual.

Days 94 - 98

Dear Henry,

Today was the first day this year we were able to go outside in short sleeves.  It was beautiful and warm and I did not even care about the soggy ground or the fact that it's supposed to be back to uncomfortably cold temperatures this weekend.  We were happy today.  

You, who have done nothing but scream and cry and whine and be a Grade A Fussy Child in general this past week, laughed and played and did not require me to hold you 23 of the 24 hours in the day.  You insisted on going down the slide a hundred times, but that was about the extent of your imperial demands for the day.  

I really hope this is indicative of life with you this spring and summer (and fall and, you know, I'll take next winter, too, and all the other seasons after that).  I know being cooped up in the house had us all a little crazy, but you were especially miserable and if being able to fall on your head in the mud is the answer, I'm willing to set aside my violent hate of the stuff for you.  

Seriously.  It was good to see you happy again.  I get that tomorrow may likely be back to angry, unhappy Henry, but it helps to know happy Henry's in there.  Maybe now we'll all survive until you can read this letter.

Love (really),
Mama

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

So this photography thing is getting real again.  I've got more sessions in the next three months than I had in the last two years.  It's good.  It's crazy, but it's good.  And it's motivating me like nothing else can.  I've got this little notebook I keep with me everywhere I go for business notes.  I've got twenty-two pages filled up with ideas and plans and calculations and lists.  And alllllll my sideways, upside down, nutty scribbling is telling me that I'm going to be re-launching soon (no exact date, because I'm not going to force myself into failure -- that was, like, the least fun lesson to learn in the ENTIRE WORLD).  That stupid little notebook makes me unbelievably happy, y'all. 

You know what else makes me happy?  Getting product back from the printing lab to send out to my clients.  (Squee, Natalie!  Your pictures are coming your way!)

~*~*~*~*~*~

We were outside playing today (!!!!!!!!!!!!) and saw a contrail up in the sky.  Charlie studied it for a bit, then turned to me.

"What's that from?"

"You know what that's from, you always tell me it's from a jet."

"No," he said, very seriously, "It's from Santa's car."

Hey, there's no law that says Santa has to stay in the North Pole all year.  Or drive a sleigh on his off days.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Last night, we had some little things we needed to pick up in town and decided to all go as a family and have dinner together, too.  It was warm enough to have the windows down while we were going slow through town.  Charlie loved it.  I grabbed this picture with my cell phone, so the quality is nonexistent, but I love it so much it hurts.

Days 92 & 93

Dear Henry,

The weather is finally starting to warm up (AS IT WELL SHOULD), but you and your brother are still hip-deep in colds.  You, especially, end the day bleary-eyed and sniffly, wiped clean out by this stupid thing.  I feel bad that I haven't seen you for longer than a few minutes at a time the past couple evenings, since it's been pretty much home from daycare, dinner, bed in short order.

But the mornings, early as they are have been nice.  You've been waking around the same time Daddy gets up (5:30 a.m., for the record), but there is no way in the world that I am getting up at that hour.  So I scoop you up and drag you back into bed with me.  You become a warm little lump that curls atop my shoulder, kind of like a cat, your head pressed against mine, taking up the entire pillow.  You snore directly into my ear, but I don't mind.  

I never do go back to sleep, but lay trying not to think about every itch I suddenly need to scratch but can't, and about how you're still so tiny and so, so much bigger than those first few days all at the same time.  When you wake the second time, the time you really are ready to get up, you put your face very near to mine and babble, "Ba-ta-ba-da-da, glob-glob-glob."  Never "mama".  That's cool, I'll remember that when I'm figuring up allowances in a few years.

It's a nice time, our time, and since we very rarely get any of that I'll take it.  Even if it is at a stupid hour.

Love,
Mama

~*~*~*~*~*~

I've been in hardcore business rebuilding mode lately.  The decisions I'm making these days, the planning and work I'm doing, make it incredibly clear how much I was doing wrong (or just wasn't doing, period) before.  I'm learning  not to beat myself up over it, though.  It was the right idea, but the wrong time.  I wasn't ready yet, but at the same time I needed to have that stumble before I could be ready.  

Maybe it won't work this time, either.  Maybe it won't work the time after that or the time after that, but if there's anything I've learned from potty training Charlie it's that it's great to have a goal, but the trying is what matters.  I feel silly saying this, but I'm proud of myself -- for screwing up and knowing it, but mostly for trying again.  And for surviving potty training.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I had such high hopes for Henry, that he would be the artistic one, the one who didn't need to destroy everything or make all the noise in the world.  BUT NO.  I'm destined to be surrounded by noisy, stinky car guys.

Days 88 - 91

Dear Henry,

Well, you finally got your attitude in order.  The last couple days you've been (mostly) pleasant and cheerful and fun...just in time for you to come down with this latest @&%^ing cold that's going around.  It's given your brother an ear infection and tonight as I type this, I can hear you over your monitor sounding like an asthmatic bulldog.  Yay.

I despise winter/spring in this area.  Where I'm from, winter is about two weeks of "really" cold (getting down to the high 20s or low 30s at night) and somewhere around the 40s during the day.  On either end of that are a few chilly weeks, but none of this months upon months of gray, freezing, mucky, holed-up-indoors-forever crap.  Since I had your brother, it seems like every year we spend four of the six months of cold weather under the vise grip of one illness or another.  And you like to go big with yours, which is just one more layer of fun, let me tell you.

I should be quiet, I know.  It could be worse.  It likely will be worse once you start school (I never thought of schools as a giant germ breeding ground until I had kids), but it could be way worse even than that.  I should be grateful and stock up on Kleenex with grace.  BUT I HATE THIS SEASON I HATE IT A LOT SO MUCH HATE.

You, though, I love.  Just, you know, so you're sure this letter is actually about you.  

Love,
Mama

~*~*~*~*~*~

Yeah, so we had a warm-ish, sunny day.  JUST IN TIME FOR CHARLIE NOT TO BE ABLE TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT.  The good news is, he's taking it all in stride so far.  No big hysterics, no real complaining (so far).  He's started his antibiotics and he's got his ibuprofen and Easter candy and, really, what else does a sick kid need?  

The bad news is, these boys might as well be down at the CDC, licking Petri dishes for all the good washing hands and scrubbing down grocery buggies with antiseptic wipes has done.  I swear to god, all they do is come up sick during the winter.  I think we've had, like, two good, healthy weeks in the last four or five months.  WHAT.  THE.  HELL.

/rant

~*~*~*~*~*~

Since we've been holed up indoors anyway, I may have flipped a little and decided to gut the playroom.  I dumped every toy those children own in the middle of it, got rid of a giant lawn-sized trash bag of toys, and organized the bejeezus out of all the rest.  Charlie has taken to asking permission to touch anything in there and, frankly, that's fine by me.