Well done, Chrisi-tania, well done.
2>Aw, Chrisi-tania a nickname my brother gave me. I hadn't thought of it for quite some time.
3>The big two were having a yelling contest while I was grilling dinner the other night. High pitched screams, low screams, short screams, drawn out screams, screams with accents.
"Knock if off, guys. People will think something is wrong, yelling like that," I said.
Simon rebutted, "People don't care. This is the USA. That stands for, 'Selfish, greedy buttholes.'"
Where does one even begin with that? My red, white, and blue heart hurt a little. Was I to address the 'butthole' or the disdain for the wonderful country in which he was privileged to be born?
He continued on, making a strikingly good point about our culture, "Nobody cares if something is happening to someone else. We can scream all we want and not one person would ask why."
I asked, "Well, why is that? What is the root of the problem? I assure you that it is not just in America. Why does selfishness persist? I'm looking for one word..." I hinted.
"President?" he answered.
"Sin," I corrected through my raucous laughter. Perhaps we should just listen to music in the car instead of talk radio. Or not.
4>I treat him like a child way more often than I should. It's when I see a picture like this that it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm trying, Kiddo, er...son. Young man? Shhhhheesh. Look at the feet on him. He doesn't seem to outgrow clothes very quickly, but he's reached the stage of outgrowing shoes faster than he gets them dirty. And his shirts? They smell like cologne now. Just like his daddy's. Dad's. Oi, see? Not ready.
5>I have these pictures of Sean that we got from his parents at Christmas. They span his whole childhood. I'm okay flipping through the baby ones and childhood ones. It's when I get to the teenage ones. There's one of him at 13, in particular. It makes my heart race and not in a good way. It's like looking into my very near future. He went from little boy to this gangly teen in the span of one picture and it makes nervous. Like I'll just wake up one morning and Simon will have arms and legs that are too long for his body and an Adam's apple that bobs when he laughs and facial hair and I'M NOT READY!!!!
6>I do realize it's not about me. Just proclaiming that here and now. It deserves it's own point.
7>Lately this is the only way I can get all four in one frame. Disjointed as it may seem, I kinda love it. Felix interacting with Jude. Jude being receptive-he isn't always. Titus with a giant piece of bark that he didn't put down the entire time we were there. And Simon, messing with a loose molar.
8>Simon has taken to sending messages in his pictures. Mean, just mean. But kinda funny.
I did at least have a look of disapproval on my face.I made that skirt, by the way, and didn't even have to rip out any seams. It may not survive the washing machine though...I've heard that every time you sew, you learn something new. The lesson from this skirt: don't use linen. It's a mess and I can't keep the ends from unraveling no matter what I do. I leave a trail of threads wherever I go. It turned out a bit more shabby chic than I intended, which works out because I'm always a bit more shabby than I intend.
9>Sometimes I don't see their love until I'm looking back through pictures. It's easily missed amidst the punching and tackling and constant bickering. Eeeeevery once in a while my shutter is fast enough to catch a millisecond hug.
10>Lastly, this little chucklehead is SIXTEEN months old. He cracks us up. I don't remember this age being so much fun. I remember the stress of trying to keep a sixteen month old from plummeting to their demise multiple times a day. I remember the shrieks of having to leave a playground they have no intention of ever leaving. I remember the mess of self feeding. But I had forgotten the hilarity of their discoveries and fascination with life. It's a good age.