(There's a great Randall Jerrell poem by that name that comes to mind right now. It's not entirely inappropriate, even, for this moment in my life, though I would like to think of myself as a little more contented - AND YOUNG - than that. But that's a post for another time.)
Well, it's official. No more two-year-olds in this house. We've had birthday festivities and Christmas parties all week, and we all have the cough and runny noses to prove it. This morning is our Christmas service at church, and I really don't want to miss it, but I can't put my kids in the nursery looking and sounding as sick as they do, and I can't reasonably expect them to sit in the service, with all of us looking and sounding as sick as we are. It's not fair to them or to the other kids. Sad, though - I've missed the Christmas service every year since I've had children for one reason or another, and, along with Easter, it is my favorite of the year.
My mom said she cried when I turned three, and wanted to know if I've been emotional this weekend. Not at all. I still have a baby in the house, and that's probably why. It makes me smile sometimes to think that among our group, the "big kids" are all three. As though three is "big" - context is everything, right?
Want to see some pictures from the week?
So far this has been the function of the BIG BIG BIG dump truck. It'll be used more outside than in.
I love this picture. Jessica and I have had both of our babies at the same time (though she's got one on me now). How cute is her little girl?
Before we all got sick, we played in the mud one morning. The weather here is not at all conducive to keeping little boys from eating one another or tearing down walls just to see what happens if they do. It's been cold and wet and muddy for WEEKS. Eventually, because I needed to preserve my house and my sanity, and because it's my job to keep these children alive for the next fifteen years or so, we put on our swimsuits and went out in the mud.
Silas wearing my grandfather's (now legendary) hat. How cute is that baby?
Eat your heart out Shroeder.
I also hosted (at someone else's house, because of our germy state) a cookie party for the preschoolers from church. I'm not sure I should be proud of this, but I actually had more fun because my kids weren't there (fevers sent them to Grandma's). I can be a teacher, or I can be a mama. But trying to be mama and teacher at the same time requires an energy level and skill set that feels a bit superhuman. I can do it, but I crash when it's over. But just being teacher - showing little kids how to cut out cookies, and trying to keep them from licking all the cookies they decorate - well, that part is really fun, especially when it's my only job.
That's it - our week in review. Next week will be easier, believe it or not. No more prep work, and only the normal family stuff on Christmas Day on the books.
How about you? How was your week?
12 hours later -
Easy? Did I say next week was going to be easy?
Remember how, in college, you would always get sick as soon as you finished finals? It's like your immune system, worn as it is from all of the stress and lack of sleep, pushes through until the very end, when it collapses in a heap on your mother's kitchen floor.
I'm pretty sure that's what just happened to the kids and me.
I wrote the post above and hit "publish." 20 minutes later, Silas started running a fever. An hour after that, I broke my front tooth. Also, Asher's cough is decidedly worse today, as his mood. A few hours later, I started running a fever too. We all metaphorically collapsed in a heap together.
So here we sit, watching APT on the couch, waiting to call the appropriate doctors and dentists in the morning. But I'll save the tooth story for another post - it's too good (or bad, as it were) not to share.