And summer begins...

This is Maximus.
He's two and a little bit.
Wildly beautiful. Remarkably infuriating.
He bites, he claws, he screams.
Even the cousins distinguish him as the crazy one.
As in, "Watch out for crazy Max."
He cries "Hug, hug," each time he gets in trouble.
He repeats the last two words of every sentence he hears.
He says "Wake up" to Dan and me at 5 am.
He consumes 40 sippy cups a day.
He's the only boy we actually planned on conceiving.
He has a special blue blanket, and a special stuffed doggie.

He likes to do this to his little brother, Ethan.



It won't be long before my littlest man knows what's what.
And shuts down his abuser.
Oh Max. Just a sensitive surfer-dude in the making,
already planning his first trip out West
where everyone is all chillax.

The boys are 15 months apart.
They exhaust me. Good thing they love me.
Soon enough they will be cohorts plotting against me.
Sneaking out in the night.
Meeting girls, chugging beers.

And then I will be sad that it has all ended.
This time of onesies and diapered butts.
Buckets of water and a bottle cap.

For my Littlest Guy

Oh my baby, my baby, my baby. He takes So.Much.Abuse from his big brother, and yet he keeps on smiling and laughing and treating us all to the fresh air of optimism that is often so desperately needed when you're stuck in an endless cycle of diaper changes and naptime coordination. I vow to take more pictures of you, Ethan, and to start reading to you - one of these days - and to protect you from the pushing, kicking, tyrant that is your brother, Max.

My Brain is Like the Surface of My Desk

OK people. I've been writing and writing and writing, and nothing is coming together. Maybe it's because every surface in my house looks like this:




Or maybe it's because my sister and I are actually in the same house today, which means that there are SIX kids surrounding us. Which means: Revolving naps. Constant snacks. Crying kids. Slamming doors. And I am trying to write some post that has a LASTING message. Sorry oh you faithful readers (whom we LOVE), it ain't gonna happen today. I can't get it done. It's too loud and crazy here.

Plus, Sarah's about to open a bottle of wine. So I gotta go.

A hug is where the heart is

I can't stop thinking about this face.




And how it's lips can charm me and

scorch me all in a matter of minutes.

_______________________________________

Scenario:

Jamis asks for a hug.
I'm bein' a lil' bit goofy and flop on top of him. Arrrrrrg! "There's your huggy hug."

"No, a real hug."

So I sit up properly on the couch and he folds into my arms. Actually, I think we're at the point where I fold into him, because the hugs are less frequent and he tends to offer them not only when he needs one, but when he knows I need one.

In this instance it is he who wants a moment of love, though. The little guys are asleep and we are preparing for another hilarious chapter of Double Fudge.

The hug:

"Thanks mom. I love you. I do."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Even though you have such a hard time listening and following directions?"

"Yeah. It's just my ears.
They need to be pipe cleaned."

We laugh.
We laugh honestly.

And then.
The inevitable.
This comes about each time we share a moment of great humor.
Each time Jamis does or says something funny, impressive or surprising.

"Tell Daddy."




And I almost had the moment all to myself.

Daddy, mind you, is in Virginia for 4 days. Not even around. If he were, Jamis would run to the office and tell him the remarkably funny thing that he just said. Dan would smile and half-heartedly laugh - nothing like my swirl of giggles beside him on the couch.

But it's not my reaction that counts. He knows I love him. He knows I always will. And beyond that, he knows I think he is just GREAT!

It is his father's reaction that warrants all the attention around here. It is so much more important that Daddy think he's GREAT! And he looks for that in every word that's spoken between them. And I tell Dan, "You know, what he thinks you think about him is much more important than what he thinks I think about him." And sadly, I'm sure it always will be.

It's just another reason my heart bleeds for having three boys. Three boys that are always looking toward their father for acceptance and guidance.

I will be the pillar of love and strength, I suppose. But that's an awfully tall order. Maybe I'll just make a point to always give hugs. In quiet times. With no one near. That's when the good stuff comes out.

Tractor Masterpiece

Try not to focus on the melting frosting.
I am especially proud of the hay bale cupcakes, thank you very much.

Tractor Lust

And this...

There are no words