I didn’t really need that patch of sod anyway.

August 17, 2014

It’s really hard to think about all the time that has passed since I last posted.
How does it get away from you?
I come here to write for myself, as though the blog were a friend, and yet I have no time for that friend.

Shit people never told you about having two young ones at home.
The eldest heads to college next year but these two lovelies will be making me laugh and driving me crazy for some time to come.

So when your ovaries start twinging while your 18 month old runs around like a crazy person, SMACK THEM.  RIGHT THEN AND THERE.
No.  It’s wonderful having two so close together.  I just miss sanity and sleep.

Still, they are beautiful, even if one year old Edison continually tries to kill himself in various boy-driven ways.  Climbs up anything, throws himself face first off everything.  Except, apparently,  Molly’s toy truck… he got stuck on.



I’m 7 1/2 years older than my sister.  I mostly tortured her through psychological means because I was an evil, EVIL little child.  These two have a blend of sweetness and terror that just makes me melt or freeze depending on the day.
A day that typically includes moments like the following:

Edison climbs on the slide; Molly worries about him falling.  She runs to the rescue.



He slipped!  So Molly rushed up behind him to use her body to keep him from sliding or falling again.  So sweet.  He begins his climbing anew.



Edison goes too slowly up the last half of the slide so Molly, discarding her previous fear for his safety, circumvents him.



SHE WINS!  At the top before Edison who didn’t realize it was a game and couldn’t give a shit.


Later in the afternoon she saves him again from the mean stairs on the porch.  Look how happy he is?  Totally unfazed that she is a half step from squeezing him to death.



And the finale of play time?  Let’s rip up Mama’s beautiful yard by pulling up grass and tons of dirt and throwing them at each other.  E was totally up for this game.



Boys are so different.  I can watch him actually NOT THINK about anything at all and yet still be throwing his body from one activity to the other – sometimes dangerously so.   Molly watches him some, but is mostly so caught up in this world of new house, new state, less mama time that she’s having some moments of  her own.  If I don’t do things right she is going to “make me pay”.  Where she hears this stuff?

I had underestimated how hard this would be.  On me, I guess.  I love it.  I love being home with them, but the time suck that I dealt with before has increased exponentially and not because E is a hard baby to get along with.  He’s a happy dream. But the diving in different directions amidst the chaos of moving cross country yet AGAIN means that I spend the entirety of my day just attempting to get out of the house and only making it there about half the time.  And yet they make me so happy.

I suppose it’s a mystery of the human race that we keep having children when having children means parental dementia and never sleeping again.


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