I just responded to a request by some friends that I help them choreograph a flash mob for an upcoming dance party. I responded by saying something about life having me by the balls right now. And it does. I can't squeeze out another freakin' shimmy.
I have to remember that this is always a tough time of year for a teacher. The kids have had their first of two long-ish breaks. The novelty of a new school year has worn thin. They are ready to get their holiday freak on. And there we are telling them, once again, to listen.
So there's that. The general insanity of the job I'm paid to do.
And, the finality of knowing that we are done making babies.
That's a big one. And I guess it doesn't feel right to go into too much more detail over the internet. Suffice to say, I mourned today. I thought about this journey that has been the past five years. All the growth and wisdom and intensity and love. How far we've come. My husband is brave. We are brave. Our journey will only continue. The story of the four of us.
I cried happy tears, thinking about how blessed I am to be the mama of two such perfect creatures. All I wanted to do was get home to be with them. And then a few hours later, all I wanted to do was to kiss their perfect heads, tuck in their wriggly bodies, and let stillness enter my home. Quiet. Some semblance of order. Good jeepers can those two find every single last thing in every last drawer. Sol's new trick is to literally leap from the end table onto the sofa with a huge grin. I wait and catch him, tugging the table closer to the sofa each time. He then hops down and moves the table a bit further away. Gotta be on it around here.
We entered holiday excitement a bit prematurely. Met Santa while it was still November. I have to say, I'm pretty glad we got that one out of the way, as it was pretty painless. Els was a bit shell shocked, but still managed to explain her need for a Princess Jasmine costume. Solomon couldn't get enough of the big guy. Mrs. Claus had to play bouncer for all the other kids, as Sol kept finding his way back on to the big guy's lap. Only in Missoula is Mrs. Claus kinda badass with a nose ring to boot. Gotta love it.
In two weeks we go to California. I am already thinking about it. Eliana asks me every day how many more sleeps til California. We're hitting Disneyland. It's gonna be big. I'm kinda petrified, but ready to take on the challenge. It's part of my history. My people do Disneyland. We're gonna lay it on thick.
So, as always, at the end of a little writing session, I no longer care (too much) about the random sock I see shoved into a corner of the room, fridge magnents that litter the floor, the mail that spills everywhere (Eliana checks every day for letters from her, "sister in California, Queenie" Queenie sends some mean credit card offers...always explaining, of course, how much she misses her beautiful sister).
I am at peace with our choice to move forward into the world of big(ger) children. I am at peace with this being my last round of diapers. I can handle not nursing again (I think). I can take a deep breath and think about the two incredible packages that sleep in the room beside mine. The way they hug first thing in the morning. The way they are learning exactly how to piss each other off.
The way we ebb and flow up and down and up again day after day after day.