inspired by Mandy's post...

I was having trouble commenting on Mandy's blog site, but her entry struck at my daily nerves. 

Unfortunately, insecurity comes hand-in-hand with motherhood.  When Aidan's demons arise, I see myself and wonder if I planted them in this tiny human bundle.  When Davyn's language skills seem stalled, I cringe, knowing that when he was a baby I didn't spend the same amount of time reading with and talking to him as I did with A.   At some point of nearly every day, I'm thinking, "Where did I go wrong?"  I worry.  I stress.  I cry.  I pray ( not nearly enough). 

My reassurance comes in simple moments.  The other day I caught Aidan (3) with one arm around Davyn (nearly 2), and the other hand held against D's face.  He said, "You're my best friend, DB (one of many nicknames).  When I was little I couldn't do thumbs up, only pinky up.  When you get bigger you will do thumbs up and pinky up."  D leaned in and they cuddled for a moment.  Of course, my eyes were wet watching this scene.  D also wets my eyes with his kisses & smiles.  Today at the movie theater he sat by two older ladies, made eyes at them, waved, smiled, flirted.  It very obviously made their day.  His love is louder than any clearly spoken words.  In such simple moments I think I just might be helping to form some amazing&decent humans.

arizona Christmas

It was 75 degrees today...and I felt cold.  I don't remember my days in Utah, D.C. or Colorado - universes away from my present.  I once despised the desert, longed for anywhere but.  Then I spent a summer in Japan.  My breath was stolen by the sheer  green of the place, the crazy angles of mountain on mountain.   But I missed the flat brown and red rock  in a way that felt like hunger.  I'm Arizona.  Who would have guessed. 

one skinny Santa, two big boys

This Santa visit cracked me up.  The first thing I noted when we came to the front of the line (besides the lovely pastel background!) was Santa's tiny  little legs.  Aidan seriously had bigger thighs than this man.  After my boys sat, talked, got the $15 overexposed picture, they hopped off Santa's lap.  Santa's little helper rushed immediately over and queried, "Are your legs okay?"   Yes, I know I have big boys.  I knew when they were inside of me, I knew as they were birthed, and I knew as I struggled to heft them around until they learned to amble on their own (I really should have Madonna arms by now).  And their personalities are equally large.  Aidan alone makes more noise than any 20 children put together should.  He talks big, moves big, smiles & scowls big.  And Davyn has BIG time attitude.  I'll have to capture his jaw-jutted-out, eyes-rolled-back look as evidence.   Lots to deal with (note Aidan's scissor mania on his hair & Davyn's shoe lost in the food court), but lots to love on as well (note the irresistable cheeks).  Though no smiles could be coaxed on film, my little pair was very excited (and even awed into big silence) to visit Santa - even if they crippled the poor man in the process. 

my people

I've always wanted "people".  You know, the "I'll have my people get with you" kind, the kind who run your errands, balance your checkbook, clean your toilets as you relax at the spa or lounge on the couch reading.  Megan (my youngest sister) was my first "people", although she would likely deem her role as "indentured slave".  She rubbed my back, fetched my drinks, changed my laundry...all for the promise of crisp dollar bills.   No tally was ever kept, but I'm sure I owe her millions of dollars (and a few therapy sessions).   Yes, I abused that "people", but I did pay dearly for my next...

The Sprint cell phone.  411 was a magic number that I dialed in many a crisis.  "Where can I find a good Japanese restaurant?", "I need the showtimes for all the movies playing at Harkins tonight", "Do you think long sleeves can be worn with capris?", "Is it okay for a girl to call a guy the day after a first date?", "What's the name of that movie with Shelly Duvall and Steve something where he calls himself Lobo?".  I once had a bill for $500.  Yes, you read that right.  People don't come cheap.  Marriage canceled & paid that phone. 

Marriage also brought new "people".  One day  I was lying in bed, big-bellied with baby#1, and Jim asked me if I wanted a drink.  My sassy side replied, "Yes, I'd like a 65 degree glass of water, please."  Jim is sassy, too.  He took a few minutes, but came back with a glass of water heated then cooled to exactly 65 degrees (thermometer inserted).  Now that's service.  

I am now the "people".  My babies quickly indentured me.   I help Aidan change from Spiderman to dragon to Superman to Jedi countless times a day.  I diaper all of Davyn's stuffed animals at his demand (even manufacturing tiny ones for the finger puppet animals).  Sometimes I think D&A are mini tyrants.  Sometimes I want to revolt.  But sometimes I see great possibilities for the future.  On Saturday, I had a trunk of groceries to unload and D opened the door to the house for me with every trip.  Aidan fetches diapers & wipes at my bidding.  They turn off tv's & lights, close doors, put things in the pantry, start the dryer.  Small steps, but potential.  People potential.  Some day they will change laundry, clean toilets, and wash my car. These mini-me minions will no doubt melt me into payment, ending up rich in dollars.  But I will have "people".  

seeking sanity

I always thought my mother was crazy, realized I would be someday, but never imagined that day would be now. 

Two weeks ago I was shaving my legs.  Lathered up nicely, I reached for my razor and methodically moved it up and down my leg (envious of Mandi, who has now been lasered to hairlessness).  I quickly realized nothing was happening and looked at my hand, puzzled.  Instead of my lovely pink Venus razor, it held my newly-soaped-up yellow toothbrush.  Even worse, I honestly sat and looked at it blankly for a full 30 seconds before I could begin to determine exactly what was wrong with this picture.  Momentary madness? Maybe, but it's happening more & more often.

Realizing my firstborn was as brilliant as he was adorable, when Aidan was around 8 months old I taught him how to unscrew lids from water bottles, sodas, whatever.  Soon we  mastered doors and closets together.  Jim stood by and shook his head silently.  Using the basics of my tutelage, the ever-brilliant A quickly moved on to the bigger & badder.  The cute quotient diminished as I cleaned up disaster after disaster.  Beyond madness.  What was I thinking?

Months ago we were fed up with our dusty backyard - time for sprinkler action.  Jim was up early trenching, and I joined him in the heat for the next step.  Our concrete bike path was in place, and the people who poured it had promised conduits for our future sprinkling needs.  The conduits were there, but smaller than the PVC that needed to fit through them.  So, Jim & I set about making holes under our sidewalk.  With a little trial & error, Jim brilliantly realized water was our most powerful ally for this task.  And it worked.  It took time & made mud, but we managed to use the hose to blast holes under the path in three different spots.  By the end of the day we were beat.  Jim sat on the porch swing (sipping a Code Red to regain sanity, no doubt).  One item was checked off of the to-do list, but my mind swam with what remained - cleaning the path, bathing the boys, putting everything away, finishing the installation of the sprinklers.  Drowning in thought, I opted to plop down in the middle of a mud pile and  paint my feet in sludge...then my arms...and face.  A soon joined me, ecstatic.  We laughed, threw mud and thoroughly bathed our bones.  D joined Jim, appalled.  Momentary madness. 

Some mad moments are signs of decreasing brain function, others result from a lapse in judgment , but SOME are gateways to sanity.  Bathing with my Aidy in mud was a bridge to sanity on an otherwise bad day.  I'm hoping this blogging will be a similarly grounding madness.  Kelly mentioned it a few months ago.  I laughed.  Two weeks ago.  I laughed.  Over the past few days I've read her entire blog - windows into a kindred brain after the inevitable distancing of time&space.  Madness indeed.  Beautiful madness.  And so I'm here to join the madness...hoping to sort my way to sanity.