lots o' stuff

Elliott turned one last weekend. Some highlights: Grandma Wanda in all red nearly running over a baby who was rolling on the floor. Actually, why go into more highlights? That's really the best one. We try to make the party less crazy, but we both have big families, and so it always ends up loud and insane and fun. Elliott slept most of the time because that kid is smart. The few hours he was downstairs, his mouth gaped open in awe, and it also gaped open to allow me to shove food into it, as he is constantly eating. We took him to the doctor today and we were told that his height and head size is at the 76th percentile, but his weight is only at the 6th. I don't know how this is possible as he eats almost every minute he is awake, but I guess he has a good metabolism. Or a tapeworm. I am so happy he is one. He is starting to say things like kitty and cracker and dada and mama. He has started waving and trying to play pat-a-cake. He is eager to put his hands and mouth on every surface he comes into contact with him, and I love watching him learn in fast-forward.

Ben has been having a good couple of weeks as well. He has always been good with Elliott, but he has developed into a beautiful older brother. He warns Elliott to not touch dangerous things, he shares his food with him, and he sings lullabies to him. It is such a lovely thing to watch, and since Ben isn't the type of kid who goes out of his way to please anyone, I know it is genuine. It is strange to imagine the house without one of the boys--they fit together.

We were told today that Ben definitely has obsessive compulsive disorder and possibly Asperger's. We knew something was going on with him, and I wasn't that surprised. Ryan took it harder than me because he feels like it is his fault. But we all have crappy things we pass onto our kids, and we all spend our adult lives trying to overcome those crappy things. I told Ryan that at least he has good parents (and humble ones) that will always put him first and love him. A lot of kids don't have that. In the waiting room, a woman sat with her teenage son. He was wearing a helmet on his head, drooling, and spitting out words uncontrollably. It was one of those situations where you try not to look and try not to act like you are not looking and wonder what would your life be like if you were the parent of a child with all of those problems. Ryan and I can't complain. This week I also learned that two of my colleagues at work lost their children. I can't imagine the pain they are feeling. Even thinking about induces a physical reaction in me. Ryan and I really can't complain.