Tuesday, March 15, 2011

One Lump or Two?

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How cute is that!? To see some more of Ben's 9 month photos click here.

And yes, that's right, NINE months!! But that's the last time you'll hear me say that until the 23rd because he is still my little 8 month old boy for another week. Lately, in his want to catch up to his big brother ways, he's been pulling himself up on anything that he can. But after a few minutes, panic sets in and he realizes that he doesn't want to let go, but he can't move, and he looks at you with the most desperate pleading eyes saying "please!!?? stop smiling at me and pick me up!!"



In other news, it's finally starting to feel like spring around here.

Another hour of light does wonders for recharging my solar powered soul. Suddenly I feel like being out and about and having fun with my boys. And one of the wondrous things about two year old boys, is that they are immune to stereotypes, to gender roles, to being embarrassed, to the imaginary force that tells us who we have to be. No, they are just themselves. They can spend all day with uncombed hair, and greet guests at the door naked from the waist down, and not even give it a second thought. I love that about two year olds. And for the past couple of days my little two year old has been asking me to do something...something that I was certain I wouldn't hear asked until the day we have a little girl in this house, he asked for a tea party. I had just been smiling and nodding at this request for the past couple of days, until this morning, while standing on top of a dining room chair that he had dragged across the living room, cradling my Japanese teapot in his chubby little fingers, he asked to "have a tea party and wear pretty hats." I couldn't resist.




A tea party is somewhat of a waste without a plate full of cookies in the middle. You know those kind that come in the Pepperidge Farm "entertaining" pack, with the mix of shortbread, and chocolate dipped wafers, yep those would do the trick. And I'm not one to keep these on hand for my guests who happen to drop by with white gloved hands to sip tea with me on weekday afternoons, so an impromptu trip to the grocery store was in order.

By the time I had laid the blanket out on the living room floor, arranged a plate overflowing with Pepperidge Farm goodness, and set out miniature cups to be filled with "tea" , I realized that the only hats in this house were of the baseball kind. So we scrapped the hats in exchange for a few more cookies.


Wyatt helped me pour his tea (aka warm milk) into his cup, that he held so delicately with one pinky pointed outward, in a way that would make you think he had spent many an afternoon sipping tea with the ladies...er..men.

I asked him, "would you care for a cookie sir?" And in reply, in the most polite two year old voice, that has just the right amount of high pitched glee, he told me, "oh yes, thank you sir!"


He continued on like this, as we munched on shortbread cookies and in between sips of tea, exchanged chit chat. Wyatt made sure to call me "sir" every time he addressed me, and didn't even tattle on Ben when he tried to swipe cookies every time I looked away.


It was a delightfully magical way to spend a morning, sitting cross-legged on my living room floor. And it made me hope, that my boys would stay just a little bit sheltered from "the way things are supposed to be" and instead, enjoy with me, moments like this. And if they felt it was necessary, wear a pretty hat.

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Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Wild and Precious

I have to remind myself from time to time, as I trudge through my days, do the grocery shopping and ponder about whether the socks on the floor are clean enough to wear again, that this isn't a practice run.

That this is it, my one wild and precious life.

No do-overs, no maybe next times, only now. I've decided to spend a little more time doing, and a little less time dreaming, thinking, planning, sitting around, (doing homework).



I've put more miles on my snow pants this winter, crawling through the powdery soft snow, or up to the top of the mountain, then I have in the past 6 winters put together that I've owned these snow pants. I've had plenty of snow find its way between my neck and my collar to make its chilly descent down to the small of my back. And I've slipped a time or two on my really (I mean really) not made for Alaska winter boots.


I've read the same book at bedtime, with Wyatt sunk into the pit of my crossed legs, two, three, even four times. And no longer are they boring to read through time and time again, because now, since the words play like a movie in my head, and I no longer need to glance at the pages, I can instead watch the face of my sweet little boy. Watch as his eyes light up, and a little smile creeps onto his face and turns up one side of his lip ever so slightly as I read through his favorite parts. And I can kiss his head as it leans into my chest and not even skip a beat, because the rhythm I mastered two read throughs prior.

And I'm starting to see, in this little boy of mine, wheels turning in his sharp as a tac mind. He has always loved being read to, but now he's the one doing the "reading" and I love to watch him and I can just see his pride swell when he turns the last page in the book that he is reading and watches me whoop and holler and congratulate him.




And when he reads to Ben, that's true heart melting material!



And in the spirit of taking on this wild and precious life, I did a little class skipping. But when it came down to sitting behind a desk taking notes and tapping my toes, or taking my little fireball on a dog sled ride, well, the choice was easy to make. My Aunt Marti is here visiting from New York, and My Dad arranged for her a private dog sled ride, and invited Wyatt to tag along. He talked about it for the whole week prior, with random outbursts exclaiming "Wyatt go dog mushing!!??" - And I of course, forgot my camera, so these are pictures compliments of my iphone.



He got his own little private ride and was on top of the world. All I heard about for the rest of the night was how "Jelly pulled Wyatt!"







And that wonderful Aunt Marti of mine came bearing gifts for my littlest, a beautiful handmade sweater and hat. There is nothing quite as cute as a tiny little knit on a baby, especially one that has been knit just for him.



I love seeing my family and extended family love on my little boys, smother them with kisses and hugs and see the love and happiness reflected back in both Wyatt and Ben's eyes.



I soak it in, the family, the snow, the books, the cuddling, the crawling on the floor until my knees hurt, the swimming on Saturdays. Because after all, this is it. And as Mary Oliver said, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"


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