Day 364 (again... and still not really)

My little boys lately are seeming not so little. More and more, Jules is showing moments of maturity: some come in the form of Buddha-like insights, others in stern safety reminders shouted at Kai... Kai who of late has taken to wearing his Mets hat everywhere. And a Batman cape - often with nothing underneath. 

But they're still little boys - who snuggle, who squabble over the Christmas train, who want to be read to and rocked, who spontaneously reach for each others' hands, who find all sorts of "treasures" and sneak them into my pockets. Which I love. So much it makes me teary to think that this tender time will end - soon. And I worry that during so many of these sweet moments I've been too tired and distracted and too concerned about "bad" behavior to have savored them thoroughly.

And so I save these little pebbles and stash these tiny wood chips on shelves in my office. #importantreminders

Day 304

Jon's parents came to visit this weekend - it was the last time we'll see them before they head to their "alligator house" in Calabash, North Carolina. We all were looking forward to the visit - Jules and Kai, especially. Grandma Val and Papa Jon were supposed to arrive at 10 a.m. but rolled in closer to 11. During this hour of waiting, which coincided with a downpour outside, unfortunately... 1) Julian sat in the bay window impatiently watching for their red Highlander and 2) the little-boy energy in this house increased to explosive levels. When my in-laws arrived, pent-up excitement erupted into hugs and kisses, songs and show-and-tell situations. And after all of those positive ways of channeling energy had run their course, the boys started rolling around on the floor and beating the shit out of each other. All in good fun, of course. Until Jules slammed Kai's head against something and suddenly everyone was crying. Including me. Not really. But close.

Bless them, my in-laws volunteered to shuttle the boys out somewhere so that we could "get some stuff done." (Later we learned it was to the mall for merry-go-rounds and candy.) They left. Jon and I breathed in a collective sigh of relief, exhaled a few breaths of gratitude and decided, "chores be damned... we're going out." And we drove through the South End neighborhoods where, right now, we're scheming to live and we stopped for a leisurely lunch at The Spot (nice work, Chantal, if you're reading!)... 

Now it's Sunday afternoon, our house is still a mess, there's enough dirty laundry round here to clothe an unhygienic army...I should be watching gamification videos or writing content instead of blogging, also what I should have been doing an hour ago when I let Jules watch a video and snuggled next to him with my Kindle while Kai napped. Chris and Ri are arriving in an hour for family dinner and the Patriots game. 

But whatever. Buzz off "coulds" and "shoulds" - we're all going to be dead soon. Sounds morbid, yes, but it's really just a more direct way of saying "life's too short," no? 

Here's to seizing lazy days. (And being okay with the idea that I'll probably be working tonight past midnight.)

Psst... Sister Kate: I bought you one of these mugs. xo

Day 291

Oscillation defines me these days. 

I look forward to the day when everyone in this house (including Tina the fluffy cat) can wipe his/her own @ss ...  but then I get nearly teary thinking our days of diapers will soon be done. (Gross but true.)

Some moments, I want to move into an old Victorian, or a modern bungalow with few walls, downtown somewhere... or back in Pennsylvania. Then I think about my NNE posse, the proximity to the bike path, the house where Jon and I grew from two twenty-somethings with a bad-ass orange tabby who hailed from Harlem (RIP Chuck)  into a family of four (humans) with the sweetest Dempsey dog and two quirky kitty sisters. I can't imagine living anywhere else. Which alarms me. I don't nest. Settle in. I'm the girl who pretty much kept her college dorm room decorating to a poster or two because I was going to move along in two semesters. And I always expected to live in this house just a few years. Yet here I am. 

My dance class makes me feel alive, like "me"; my online gamification course, interested, eager, thrilled by possibilities. And then I consider what maybe I should be doing instead: coming straight home to kick around a soccer ball while it's still a little bit light outside, investing my energies into investigating four-year-old behavior, looking into kindergartens. Sleeping more so I'm not so snippy. Or doing work that's tied to actual deadlines and deliveries. 

And then there's that work: so many cool projects, ones that allow me to use both sides of my brain, to draw from all of my disparate interests and the patchwork of "liberal arts" experiences I've pieced together over the years. It's awesome. And engaging. And exhausting. And then I start to wonder: should I be expending so much energy on this right now? 

These - these - are the thoughts that have been muddling around in my brain for days. And, then, today, when I opened my lunchbox (a hand-me-down from Julian, no less), I found this a little yellow taxicab. 

And for whatever reason, I felt better about it all. I realize that this makes no sense. 

But this is what it is. And then I started thinking: maybe the comfort of lunchbox surprise had to do with the idea that I'd started thinking of the little car as the manifestation of an important message... 

That I'm still me - the girl who loves New York City and the fulfilling career that started there and being a mom to two crazy little boys in Vermont.

When I walked through the door at the end of the day home, Kai welcomed me with, "Mom, how was your work today?" So sweetly, punctuated with his double-dimple smile. Like he really wanted to hear about my day at the office. Like he loved his little life in which both of his parents work. And kind of a lot. 

And after the boys were in bed, I reached into my mailbox to find a single hot-pink envelope, which held inside this card from my godmother, "Aunt" Judy. 

Inside she'd written ... "It reminded me of of your blog entry and how I often I felt this way while working." 

Here's the thing: My childhood memories of Aunt Judy - Mark's mom and basically a second mother to me and my sibs - was that she was there, always, with homemade baked goods and Band-Aids and the best books. Cheerly loudly in the bleachers. Offering advice in just the right ways. And all the while she was working as a school librarian and working on her PhD.  

I'm going to choose to intepret this second surprise of the day as follows: Give up the guilt. Work really hard to be present. There's not enough time to waste any of it second-guessing. And if you need a reminder of just how fast things change, peep that old dot-matrix up there. 

Day 286

"Boys will be boys."  

"Ah, they're just acting like boys." 

Re: all variations of this refrain... not a fan. I don't like ascribing personality traits to genders... but, today, my kids were acting the way people say boys act. All crazy and tackle-y and shit. 

First, at they park, they played "fireman." (This is not crazy. This is fun. And classically childlike.) But this game is noteworthy today for the following side note reason: apparently, firemen these days only fight fires by appointment. Said Jules to Kai, as he scrambled up the ladder: "Kai, I have to get up to this fireman appointment. Quick! Follow me." 

Then, at home, while I attempted to change sheets on Julian's bed, they tackled each other again and again... Jules was sitting on Kai, his knobby-kneed legs pretzel-wrapped around his little bro's torso. They were both screaming. With Joy. This, while I fired off a series of cliche mom phrases in rapid succession: "off his neck!" "stop!" "you're hurting him" "quit sitting on his face" and, finally, "you're going to smash someone's eye into the radiator."

Outside, they squealed with delight while squirting each other with the "squirty thing" (the water gun that is not a gun). I told Jules to turn the hose off, that it was cold and it was time to go inside and then said F it. They're having fun. So I sat on the deck and read a (page of a) magazine while the had their water fight. Until they really were cold. 

And then Jules wanted to come in and "walk" Dempsey through the house. Demps was the reindeer and Jules, apparently, was Santa, handing out presents: a framed photo for me; a puzzle for Kai, who just wanted the damn leash. So he swatted and growled at Jules until they again erupted into a tumble of limbs. 

Sigh. Then I just started tuning it all out. So loud and so physical. I am very loud. But lately, I am very tired. (Which is apparent, apparently. Tonight, Julian asked me why I had two black eyes.) So I'm not so physical. But this point in the (still early) eve, my attitude was this: If you want to waste a bunch of energy rolling around on the floor, go for it.

Fireman, wresting, water fights... it wasn't until I was washing dishes in the kitchen and overheard a lesson on how to wipe one's @ss safely and effectively that it started to sink in: I live with a bunch of "boys" (who, in many ways, already behave as stereotypically defined). I will overhear many discussions of sh*t, and future ones won't be so instructional. There will be more play-fighting and yelling and water throwing. 

I think I need to start drinking more beer.