A breath away

I stumbled upon this link from a friend's blog: Kelly's Korner.

As soon as I saw the picture of that sweet baby girl in her isolette, it was as if I were standing back in the NICU. Just over four years ago, in a place now very far away, I was looking at my own little SK attached to tubes and machines. He was so beautiful.

God has worked many wonders since then. He has brought us through so much, and been tremendously faithful. Someone only has to say those four letters--N, I, C, and U--to melt the years away and set me right next to that isolette again. For a long time, that was a bad place to be.

Now, I am thankful. I see how much good has come from that time. Even now, I think that still more good is pending. God does not like suffering, He weeps with us. At the same time, He makes it yield every bit of truth, growth, and Love possible. He never wastes our pain, for it is His too.
Once, I was a breath away from one of my deepest wounds. Now, I hold the memories close as a reminder of how GOOD is my God.

Please join me in praying for little Harper, and all the babies who are in NICUs everywhere.

A Sampling

SK has been coming up with some good ones lately.

While coming home from some errands, I asked him if WB was asleep. "Yeah," he said, "He runned out of gas."

*****

He woke me up early Sunday morning by shuffling back and forth on the carpet along the foot of our bed. "What are you doing?" I asked groggily. "I'm just tickling the house," he explained.

******

It has been bitterly cold the last several days. Even though I preheat the car, the boys still get chilly when I bring them out. While I was strapping him in, SK said, "I'm turning into a little boysicle!"

*******

Here is my conundrum: the boys do and say funny things faster than I can write them down. In the absence of a solution, I simply try to scribble them down on the back of the nearest envelope--or my dependable steno pad--in spare moments. And we all know there are so many of those.

Those moments have become sparer this past week, since WB discovered the joy of the kitchen counter tops. He can push a kitchen chair up to most any structure in said room, and then scale to the highest elevation thereof. These include stove tops, sink, knife drawer, canned goods, microwave--oh yes, so much fun to be had.

Yesterday, in a bid to preclude insanity, necessity became the source of this mother's invention. I grabbed a spare belt (the one too big for KiSA to wear anymore) and strapped the chairs together in the middle of the room. Now they are too heavy to scoot. Score one for mom. (I don't keep track of the boys' scores. There's that fine line between denial and positive thinking again.)

Update on the room project: The border is still 1/3 scraped off. I think my brilliant decorating predecessor attached the world's cheapest wallpaper with liquid nails.

Do-Over

I just finished the last bit of painting in the kitchen and living room around Thanksgiving.

Now, I've turned my keen color sense and extraordinary style to the playroom/office. Well, really, I'm just going to paint the extra bedroom yellow.

I'm not exactly sure why I drive myself (and my family) crazy with this stuff. I have somewhat of a ambivalent relationship with decorating. I very much like having an end result that STAYS DONE. On the other hand, well, it's work.

I'm excited about what the room might become, and how we will enjoy it. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Up

Just a moment ago, WB was puttering and babbling happily at my feet while I typed.

Then he wasn't. In a snap, he scampered up onto the chair and scaled the table. Without hesitation, he came after the keyboard with glee.

I was astonished. I knew this was coming, but I'm still surprised. Climbing into the chairs? Already? Climbing onto the table? Already?

He's just done it again. He's pretty pleased with himself about it too--my 20-pound mountain goat.

Speechless

A routine bath time was interrupted recently by a question from SuperKid:
"Mama, are you going to have another baby in your tummy?"

Even now, I struggle to define the degree to which his question surprised me. This kid has spent the better part of the last year trying to divert my attention away from his little brother. He's made sure that WB has gotten toughened up and been put in his place. It was common to hear him say, "Put him down and pay attention to ME." He likes him now, it seems. Probably wants to keep him around. But another one?

So I answered how moms always answer when they have no clue what to say--with another question.

"Do you want another baby?"

"Yeah," he said, "We only have one, and we need a lot of babies everywhere."

"You like babies, huh?"

"Yeah, I love my baby brother."

"Well, we'll have to talk to God and Daddy about that."

***********************

We signed SuperKid up for baseball. The first practice is in March. I can't wait to see him in his uniform.

His breathing has gotten better. Still, I'm concerned about all the running he'll be doing. As soon as it gets a little warmer, we're going to have to start building up his stamina.

I'm excited to see how he does at T-ball. He's already able to hit balls that I pitch to him--if you can call what I do, pitching. What I am most looking forward to, is him making friends.

***********************

WonderBoy is loving his shape sorter, and his pretend telephone. He is enjoying closing doors; having a tougher time opening them, though (I've identified the call he makes to signal "help"). He's picked up the please and thank you game, wherein he hands us a toy, expects a thank-you, and then wants the toy back.

Oh, brothers. They are wrestling in earnest now. Rolling around, giggling, squealing, grunting. It's all fun and games until they bonk heads, which they always do. And all the many, many new toys from Christmas and a double birthday? They are all great fun, but the most fun one is the one the other brother has. Of course.

But outside the house, family loyalty still reigns. Mr. Friendly SuperKid introduces himself to people, and then proudly introduces his little brother. It's that odd "I can mess with him but you can't" philosophy.

Oh, brothers.

It was the best of times--

--it was the worst of times.

(My apologies to Dickens)

WonderBoy cried out from his crib, distraught. As I picked him up, he clutched his blanket and planted his thumb in his mouth. As we began to nurse, his eyelids grew heavy.

We nestled together warmly, and he soon fell asleep. I returned him to his bed, and pulled his little quilt over him. Then I patted him softly--

--which woke him up. He sat up, flashed me a grin, and giggled.

The "best" part? He was incredibly cute. The "worst" part? It was 4:04 a.m.

He doesn't normally sleep with us, but I thought that might do the trick. But he just ended up waking KiSA up by exploring his facial orifices. I wish I could blame it on teething, or illness. But I think he was just being persnickety.

Who on earth said, "sleeping like a baby?"

Siete

Just for the record, Wonder Boy got his seventh tooth on Christmas Eve. Smile, baby!

Fair Warning

This is your warning.

When your brother calls and asks you if you want a five month-old yellow Labrador Retriever puppy, be careful.

Don't fall in love. Don't take him hiking, and take pictures of him and pass them around like a proud mother. Don't let those glistening golden eyes get the better of you.

Don't let him sleep in your room; don't spend 45 minutes a day training him. Don't play hide-and-seek in the back yard with him, or take him to an empty soccer field to chuck tennis balls. Don't tie him to your bed frame to keep him from wandering in the night, he will lick the paint off the wall.

Watch yourself, or you might start taking him to the lake just to watch him heartily hurl all 85 pounds of himself into the water. Before you know it, your bookshelf will hold books like "The Water Dog" and "Obedience Training." You'll have your veterinarian on speed dial, and Lab Calendars and checks.

When you're sick or recovering from surgery, he'll lay his head on the edge of the bed. When you're trying to nap, he'll lay slimy chew toys to at your feet or bark at stray cats. If you leave a plate of anything unattended, he'll dispose of it almost instantly.

When you have a spat with your spouse, don't sit on the back steps and pour your heart out to him. Don't admire the golden sheen of his coat in the autumn afternoon sun while walking.

And when you have to leave your newborn in the hospital fighting for every breath, he will understand. You will hold him close just to feel something warm in your aching, empty arms, and his fur will catch your tears.


Don't put him outside when he knocks over the baby, you won't go out and spend time with him like you think you will. Don't yell at him when he barks and wakes up the baby--he's just lonely. Don't stop walking him when you're pregnant again, and don't neglect him.

Don't think twice when your neighbor offers to take him into her yard. And when your husband gets a better job a thousand miles away, don't hesitate to honor the love that neighbor has shown and give her the best dog in the world.


When you're driving away, don't worry. He'll be happier, he deserves the love she has to give. Don't feel sad every time you see someone scratching their dog behind the ears or playing fetch. Don't lie to yourself about being ready for another dog. You're not.

Don't go visit him on Christmas vacation, or take him a toy. Don't play fetch with him, for old times' sake.

And whatever you do, don't go see "Marley and Me" at the movie theater. You will cry too much and feel silly, and wonder how you got to the point where you feel like writing a letter to a dog.

Consider yourself warned.

Curious

My intended audience for this blog is primarily my sons, 20 years from now. But I am happy that others are coming along for the ride.

I am just wondering who you are. If you read this, would you please consider making a comment? A simple "hello" would suffice. Thanks.

Landing

Whew.

What a whirlwind two weeks! We touched down on terra firma a tad after two p.m. this afternoon, thus ending our two week trip to the Lone Star State. We were blessed with good travel, treasured friends and family, and wonderful memories.

I had anticipated that each night, I would form the memories made that day into a post. (Go ahead, laugh. Then file under "U" for "Unrealistic.")

Plan B, then, is to post what I can when I can. A bit more in touch with reality, yes?

Happy New Year to you all. I hope to be back shortly.