This Week

I have no pictures.

Nothing that shows the table last night scattered with tacos and sliced avocados and popcorn and one butter cream chocolate birthday cake and one whipped frosting vanilla cupcake.

Nothing that shows a five year boy carefully choosing eleven candles by color (pinks, reds, and blues) and just as carefully strategically pushing them into the cake (six plus five, for me) 

Nothing that describes the exhausting thrill of caring for three little boys five, three, and one who give tight-around-your-neck hugs before transforming the couch into a trampoline ('No! Stop!')

Nothing that reflects the athleticism of a baby who cannot yet walk, crawling and lifting himself and holding on to anything in front of him, even Sadie the dog, all over the house 

There is no time for pictures.

I am at my daughter and son in law's house this week with my counterpart Grandmother (Mike's Mother) and together we are doing something neither of us has done consistently in twenty five years. The boys are all up by 6:30 am, we are efficient in getting everyone dressed and eating at least milk and fruit, leaving some time for silly words and stories before they head for daycare and we head for work.  We reconvene by five or six, isn't that a long day for everyone? I can see from the daycare center that stress accompanies not-enough time. We eat (too quickly but with good intention),  catch up, sometimes sing and tonight is bath night, and we barely get the boys in bed on time, which includes reading books and at least one or two unplanned bathroom stops. I say barely only in case Jess reads this. The more accurate word so far this week is rarely.

Drew who is three announces "I need privacy!" when he goes to the bathroom. And when he 'poops', as he calls it, he points before he flushes and says confidently,  "I TOLD YOU!' 

And Mr. Ryan age five is apparently in the habit of pondering several questions that cause him to call from upstairs after he has gone to bed. The latest is the secret of the birthday card he had made for me: where should he keep it? can he give it to me first thing in the morning? will there be birthday cake for breakfast? This last question is asked only because his parents are not here. 

I can feel the exhaustion. It surprises me. This must be why parents do not have babies later in life*. But there is something so damn precious about caring for and sharing with these little boys. They aren't angels but in some way they really are.

I've read Cat in the Hat twice.

It's nice.

I want to write my own Cat in the Hat.

Imagine that. 

love

kj

* of course i know there are biological reasons, but that is not the only way to become a parent, right?!