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Time Marches
Jun. 2nd, 2010 04:56 pmIt seems (from a brief skim of the friends list) that the past few weeks have been tumultuous for many of my friends. My heart just aches for those who are hurting--I wish I could do more than just read and pray and think. If only one's thoughts could be made tangible, somehow (and only on demand, because otherwise it would be rather ghastly).
Events are tumbling around over here, but they are by and large small and average and everyday, which is suitable. The Oldest Boy rode his dad's bike last night, and shaved for the first time, more for practice than for necessity. He is in the 5'6 neighborhood now, catching up to me and his dad. Sometimes, when I catch sight of him suddenly, it takes me a second or two to decode that the young man before me is, indeed, my son.
The youngest boy has not yet hit his growth spurt, for which I am thankful. At the rate his brother is going, it would be cheaper to manufacture his clothes from dollar bills!
In my current decluttering mode (less successful than one would like, as I possess much cool stuff and not much space in which to display it to advantage--helloooooo, old books that are precious to no one but me!), I keep turning up small mementoes of the boys' earlier childhood. Such an odd juxtaposition, to be looking at crookedly-drawn pictures and then glimpse one son typing his magnum opus and the other reading the newspaper and updating me with his take on world events (in short: everyone in the headlines is not operating at full mental capacity).
In many ways, I feel right now as though I am embarking on a trip and hoping I've packed all the things I'll need. We're moving slowly from the moment-to-moment phase of parenting (where you try to keep them from throwing Cheerios on the floor and eating random bits of dirt) to the overarching phase (where you hope hope hope they've been paying attention all 1,534 times you've explained why you do what you do and expect what you expect and please, please keep your room clean so if there's a fire you won't be trapped by piles of Lego bricks!).
And it's good. I've loved them at every age, and I love them now. I love where we are, and I'm excited about where we'll be tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.
Events are tumbling around over here, but they are by and large small and average and everyday, which is suitable. The Oldest Boy rode his dad's bike last night, and shaved for the first time, more for practice than for necessity. He is in the 5'6 neighborhood now, catching up to me and his dad. Sometimes, when I catch sight of him suddenly, it takes me a second or two to decode that the young man before me is, indeed, my son.
The youngest boy has not yet hit his growth spurt, for which I am thankful. At the rate his brother is going, it would be cheaper to manufacture his clothes from dollar bills!
In my current decluttering mode (less successful than one would like, as I possess much cool stuff and not much space in which to display it to advantage--helloooooo, old books that are precious to no one but me!), I keep turning up small mementoes of the boys' earlier childhood. Such an odd juxtaposition, to be looking at crookedly-drawn pictures and then glimpse one son typing his magnum opus and the other reading the newspaper and updating me with his take on world events (in short: everyone in the headlines is not operating at full mental capacity).
In many ways, I feel right now as though I am embarking on a trip and hoping I've packed all the things I'll need. We're moving slowly from the moment-to-moment phase of parenting (where you try to keep them from throwing Cheerios on the floor and eating random bits of dirt) to the overarching phase (where you hope hope hope they've been paying attention all 1,534 times you've explained why you do what you do and expect what you expect and please, please keep your room clean so if there's a fire you won't be trapped by piles of Lego bricks!).
And it's good. I've loved them at every age, and I love them now. I love where we are, and I'm excited about where we'll be tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.
