33 things before i'm 33: item #22.

22. Spend an entire day with Everett as if he were the only baby here. Done.

Bliss, folks. The boy is serious bliss.

for his therapist

Yesterday I forgot to feed him dinner. Just totally forgot. And then wondered why he was crying.

Today I forgot to sunscreen his little white self at the park. Then thankfully, I borrowed some from a more-prepared friend.

And still he smiles. With her, I worried because she was slow to warm. With him, I worry because he smiles all the time.

At no other point of my life would I have been worried because someone in my family was extremely happy, but as a mother, somehow it makes perfect sense.

Parenting two kids: double the mommy-guilt. I am ridiculous.

disadvantage: dong.

Despite the fact that men get to pee standing up, make way more money than their female counterparts and don't have to deal with bras, childbirth or menstruation there is one area that is far from equal for little boys. That my friends, would be the diaper.

I changed diapers for a good 2 years before Everett was born. Claire could use any brand without a problem. Such is not the case for the Mister. Unless I buy one particular brand of expensive (though supposedly more enviornmentally friendly?) disposables, he ends up soaked. The result? I am in possession of one nearly full case of size 3 Kirklands. I'll gladly share them with anyone in the area that has a girlchild.


Any takers? Mister loves to share. There's a glass ceiling when it comes to diapers and Mister has hit it.

picked.

That Everett has made it to the ripe old age of 11 months is a testament to his resilience. The dude has had play-doh mashed into his soft spot, has endured bites and wrestling matches and extremely aggressive hugs. I picked up a copy of this book early in the week. You know when you do that thing where you read a parenting book and it has all of these, "don't do this" statements and you find yourself going, "Shoot! I do that." Maybe that's just me.

One of the best parts described acknowledging a child's angry feelings toward her sibling. Yesterday, Claire begins to hug Mister Baby rather roughly. Normally, I would say something like, "You don't want to hurt him." Only, I realized that she does want to hurt him. Instead, I said, "Sometimes you'd like to hurt him." She stops, mid hug, and looks at me with those huge blue eyes and says, "Yeah. I want to hit him and bite him and hug him and kiss him. And can we give him away? I want to give him away."

This began a conversation that she had been avoiding for nearly a year.

Somehow saying it, knowing that I knew how she was feeling and that it was okay to feel it, even if she couldn't act on the feelings, made all the difference. Her step was lighter. She's been saying all of these sweet things about how much she loves having a brother. How we should keep him. Which is good, you know, because I had planned on keeping him.

I think I was afraid of the dark part of her heart that really did want to hurt him. But that is exactly how we all are. Afraid that we're not enough. Afraid that we're replaceable. And I can tell you for sure that she is not replaceable.

frenemies.

Lately, it's been more friend than enemy, and I am grateful.

first fruits.

I peeled my last peach this morning. I dehydrated and froze the dregs of the 90 pounds that we picked last week while Mister Baby discovered the thrill of water play.

My neighbor, who turned eighty this summer, spent several early mornings sharing her wisdom and several well-worn Ball jars. Sometimes as a mama, you feel like you do the same mundane tasks every day. In a weird way, canning and processing 90 pounds of peaches provided an opportunity to do something completely new. It's not because canned peaches from the store are terribly expensive. I want them to remember pulling food from our garden. Picking fruit with him strapped to my back, and keeping leaves out of his mouth. Eating peaches from the tree.

I want them to know that food doesn't just magically appear in the produce aisle. I remember the kitchen full of steam while my mom canned fruit in the summers. I remember the neon green relishes she would make. Claire begged and begged to come along to Lola's for canning. Soon enough, she'll get to help. I can't wait.

the negotiations begin.

Claire: Dad. I was thinking about a swing set.
Nate: ???
C: I was thinking we should buy one at the store. And bring it home. And play on it.
Here's our negotiator, in the helmet she wore at a recent party that included pony rides. The girlie wasn't interested in riding at all. She was, however, quite interested in playing on the swings.

11.

Dear Everett,
Today we spent time with a good friend who is soon to have her second baby, a boy. Like all mamas of two, she wonders how on earth her older child is going to cope when the new little one comes along. A year ago, I wondered the same thing. I worried about how your sister would cope with the intrusion of this new little Mister. I was afraid.

Today, I listened as your sister called to you from her bedroom, "Come on, Ev. Let's have a dance party!" You crawled full tilt toward her, giggling. I wish I could tell myself a year ago that there is no need to worry, that you will be crazy about each other and that even in the moments when you aren't, it will all be okay. I wish I could tell my friend that her big girl's life will be richer than she can imagine, that her heart will stretch to accommodate her little penguin.
Love,
Mama

literally millions of peaches.

Any thoughts on what I should do with the 90 pounds of peaches that I picked this morning? We plan to can and dehydrate and freeze this week. I really want to do a cobbler or a pie that doesn't have a ton of white sugar in it, especially since I don't have any white sugar. Mister Baby has a few ideas about what we should do with them. Dude loves peaches.

I found one discretely tucked between his knees after I finished taking these photos.