| Home > Journal > Sorry, The Best I Can Do Ain't That Great Tonight, Folks! |
| Sorry, The Best I Can Do Ain't That Great Tonight, Folks! | | Date Created: Apr 26, 2006, 09:13 PM |
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This picture is of John in the jump "yard" at the NICU reunion. A very nice little boy is helping him get up on top of the snail which John had been trying to get up on for about 15 minutes, always failing and instead getting pinned behind it and under it when lots of big kids at a time got on it and squashed him. But he never gave up!
Let me jinx myself by declaring that we are officially in a good groove right now. The boys have been playing pretty well together and have been behaving. A lot of what drives me crazy right now is only the result of their being loud, rambunctious, destructive, and hyper, not fussy or tantrumy. I am also going crazy out of pure exhaustion--physical and mental. Last night Will and I put away laundry for hours even though I had had a very busy day with the boys. Today I hardly saw the boys at all and I am completely useless. Will is a busy bee. He pressure-washed the outside of the house, read the boys their bedtime story, and is making chocolate chip cookies from scratch right now. I have no energy and the house is a mess. I keep thinking if I clean things up a little it will give me a little lift and keep me from having bad dreams about being suffocated by dust bunnies and choked by the triplet-size crumbs of blueberry muffins, granola bars, and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich crust. But even that is not motivating enough. All I want to do is take a hot shower, put on a t-shirt or something without a waist to remind me of how much weight I've gained, and curl up with a mind-numbing book. Why didn't I buy that paperback book on the drugstore shelf today when I had the chance?
I wanted to write the other night about my grandfather's 80th birthday, but I ran out of time. It was Saturday night and it really was wonderful. When my dad and his brother and cousin get together they are entertaining to say the least--the charming combination of their senses of humor, storytelling abilities, and capacity to consume impressive amounts of cold beverages. My grandfather told some good stories, too, and looked great and had a good time. It was fun to have that side of the family together and the boys had a wonderful time with the other children there. As usual, John was a little shy at first and wanted to be held. It's so funny how he is king here and so sheepish everywhere else at first, but I'm kind of like that, too. James wanted to hang out with the adults and/ or eat "pupcakes" at all times. George played and did puzzles with 6-(I think!)year-old Philip. He didn't acknowledge me or any of the other adults the entire time. When he went somewhere to get another toy or puzzle piece, he never looked up, he only pushed the adults legs out of the way like stage curtains, never stopping. Just a wonderful, memorable night.
The secret to a good blog with plenty of funny stories about what the boys said and did is keeping a running list and writing the episodes down as they come. Then when it's time to write, it's all basically there, you just have to tie it all together. But I have no list and I can't tie anything together right now. Forgive me, and I'll try to do better.
Hmmmm. Here's a funny one. Two of our best friends are actually twins named John and James Hawk. They came over for supper the other night and I told baby John, "James Hawk and John Hawk are coming over." "And George Hawk!" he said. He still doesn't understand where George Hawk went or why he's never around. It brings to mind a point my dad always tells: "When they're in the cart at the grocery store, do you think they look at one kid with his mom and wonder 'Where are the other two?'"
Tonight James did something funny--I can't remember what, but I was teasing him and I said, "James is a goofball!" And he said indignantly, "James is not a goofball. James is a boy!"
John has gotten to be such a fashionista it's driving me crazy. I think we're going to have to start picking out his clothes the night before like a friend does with her clothes-conscious daughter. Every morning I go with him into their closet and he agonizes over which shirt to wear. He flips through them (they're hanging on a low bar) and says, "How 'bout..." but he never comes up with a good one. There are only three shirts he really wants to wear and I don't have time to make sure they're always clean. One is his "cowboy" shirt. It has a cowboy and says, "Howdy, Partner!" Another one is his soccer jersey that says "CHILE." The most loved shirt of all, though, is a t-shirt with this tiny guy on it with a huge football helmet head on it and it says, "Pee-Wee Football." But WHATEVER YOU DO (just ask my unsuspecting mom if you don't believe it) DO NOT SAY, "Pee-Wee Football!" His face turns red, his arms start flailing, and his feet stomp and shuffle. "No Pee-Wee! REAL football!" I have no idea where he learned that Pee-Wee might be less than the real deal or that it might indicate any nuance of weakness or a height and weight deficiency, but he wants nothing to do with Pee-Wee and as far as he is concerned his shirt says, "Real Football." Not only did he freak out when my mom very affectionately read the shirt out loud, but he really freaks out when one of his brothers says it. And James says it all the time. Just quietly, just under his breath, just loud enough so John care hear it and start his this-can't-be-happening dance. James has that boy's number.
So that's about all I can do tonight. Will's cookies smell good and I'd hate to hurt his feelings by not eating one and besides, I'll be in my big shapeless t-shirt soon. I'll start eating right tomorrow...unless I get stressed out or something and there's no way that could happen, right? |
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