brothers

Something clicked in the boys' brains tonight. They realized that they like each other. It isn't that they hated each other before; they simply didn't acknowledge each other's existence. Ben would play with his letters and Elliott would spin in his Exersaucer. Ben would play with his letters and Elliott would eat Cheerios in his high chair. Ben would play with his letters and Elliott would practice getting up on his hands and knees. Let me just take a moment to say that if you haven't caught on, Ben loves playing with letters. He spells his name, the whole thing, forwards and backwards. He also spells about six-seven other words and is constantly asking me how to spell more. If we are on a drive, the entire twenty minutes might be spent spelling out the colors, for example. I am proud of Benjamin's love of letters, but it is to the extent that it is slowly, very gradually, driving me insane. I do not understand how he never becomes bored with it. It is so...boring. Speaking of that, we went to the dentist today and when Ben was finished, he was offered a prize from the "treasure chest" (a.k.a. box in the corner). There were bouncy balls and helicopters and cars and...fun things. He chose an unsharpened pencil. This kid really knows how to party.

Anyway, now that Elliott is crawling all over the house, Ben has learned to accept the fact that he might have to interact with this other person whom he calls "baby." I decided to try and give them a bath together tonight, their first bath together, and I discussed this with Ben, and, to my surprise, he was more than cool with it. He was excited about it. "Bath with baby?" he confirmed. "Yes, you want to take a bath with Elliott?" I asked, uncertain. "Yes!" he exclaimed. Most of the time, Ben does not want to stop playing with letters to take a bath, but this time, he was excited about it. While I got the boys' pajamas together, I let them play in Elliott's room. Elliott pulled himself up to a stand, and Benjamin said, "You did it, baby." Then he got up in the baby's face and said "Hi, baby" over and over again, and if it was me, it would get on my nerves because Ben clearly has no sense of personal space, but Elliott was totally digging it and smiling into Ben's face. When Elliott got down and crawled into the hallway, Ben followed him. "Come here, baby," he called. What the hell? Where did this sudden concern come from? I have no idea.

When I plopped the two into the bath together, they sat facing one another, splashing and trading toys. They smiled into each other's faces. It was the first time I've really seen them interact as brothers, completely unforced, and it was really beautiful. But then Elliott started trying to stand in the bath tub and it was like wrestling a slippery bear getting him out and into his pajamas. He quickly crawled away from me as I tried to get Ben out of the tub. Once they were both contained and dressed, they went into Ben's room and Elliott proceeded to crawl in circles crying while Ben followed him saying, "Baby? Baby? Baby? Baby?" It was time to put Elliott to bed. I was sweating and a headache had spread slowly across the back of my skull getting these two ready for bed, but I am so happy they are starting to really love each other.

quick update

christmas and new years were great ben sang karaoke copa cabana in his pjs (it was awesome) ryan and i went to san francisco ALONE (thanks jill and morg and bridge and eric and mary and jim--you guys rock) got a new camera back at work no time to write will write soon.

this is what my neighbor's christmas lights display looks like...

santa

It would have been a lot less unsettling if Santa hadn't stayed in character. As we waited for the photo girl to gear up for the shoot, Santa told us that he had almost been stabbed one Christmas. "What do you want for Christmas?" he asked Ben, pausing mid-story. "A green present," Ben replied. Santa told us that green slime makes him slip when he comes down the chimney. He then continued with his stabbing story. He almost got a knife between the ribs, apparently, but his guards protected him and he got away by sliding down a chimney. Of course. "Scary, huh?" he asked. Scary indeed.

What makes a man want to be Santa Claus? You'd like to think that they are all just philanthropists at heart, that nothing makes them happier than to make a child smile, to make his or her eyes twinkle with Christmas magic. Maybe there are a few Santas out of the thousands who genuinely feel this way. But I can't help but think that the rest of them must be lonely old pedophiles or ex-cons putting in some community service hours. You have to make yourself not think about it for too long...

merry christmas

illness

Benjamin is sick again, and I think Elliott has an ear infection. Next week, Ben is scheduled to get his adenoids taken out. It's a minor surgery, but I am dreading it. I know they will put them under and that scares me. Yesterday, we got results of his school district speech assessment, and discovered that he is in something like the fifth percentile for speech. Ryan and I were both a little sad about this--you don't want your kid to be behind in anything--but the good news is that he will be going to a speech class twice a week and the pathologist thinks he'll be on track by kindergarten. Ben was a punk for most of the assessment, and I can tell the pathologist was a little wary of having him in her class. I don't think the fact that he is still not pottytrained is helping. She just wryly smiled and said, "I know two other boys who will get along with him very well." So Ben is a handful and he has a speech delay. But I think the class will be good for him, and I'm looking forward to it.

Elliott has constant ear infections. Ben never had this problem, so this is a new one for me. He is irritable and sad and screeching a lot of the time. But then I'll look over at him sitting in his high chair, munching on his Cheerios, and he will smile at me despite his pain. Last night Ryan was out and Elliott was crying and I got him up and took him onto our bed and sat down with him for awhile. He was sweet and smiling--happy to be up--and he touched my face with his hand. It is the best feeling. In a few more months he will be a year old, and I will have made it through another baby's infant stage, and I can't believe how fast it has gone.

my meds work to a certain extent...

but I got into a fight with a twelve-year old at the movies last night. And the police came. This kid, who was no taller than my belly button and had a mustache, was the worst person I have ever met. I tried last night to think about it and have sympathy for her because maybe she's got horrible parents and maybe she's hurting on the inside or something along those lines, but then I remembered how she called me a fat bitch and I hate her all over again and I think about how one day she will be eighteen and all bets will be off. I will remember your mustache, kid. So look out.

bumper stickers in the i.e.

"Texas is bigger than France."

"My neck is like my truck: BRIGHT RED"

new post...finally

I was supposed to do the national blogger month thing this month, writing a post every day for the whole month. Obviously, that didn't pan out. But at least I got some photos...The picture of Ben running with a Swiffer duster captures the payoff for losing all that sleep and working so hard. (It's the small one--don't miss it. Stupid photobucket.) Look how much fun he is having, running away from me with a Swiffer. He has his own, by the way.

If you don't smile at that photo, you have the cold heart of an ogre.

Time for bed.

halloween, etc.

break time

Ryan and I are tired. Our weekends go like this. There are moments when the boys are sitting next to one another, and Ben is petting Elliott's thin head of hair and Elliott is smiling at his brother and we think we couldn't be any happier than we are. And then we are fighting with a screaming Ben for hours because he won't take the nap he needs. Elliott coughs so hard he throws up on Ryan. My dresser breaks and I start crying and Ryan trips over a giant bin of toys. Our tempers grow short with one another and we look up our bank account and we see those dreaded parentheses, the ones that indicate that we wrote a check that we forgot about and someone has decided to cash it the last week of the month, and now we have negative amount of dollars for the next three days, and oh yeah we are out of gas and formula. We feed and entertain the kids. We grade papers in the spaces in between. We wonder if our family is sick of us or if they are just too busy. We feel lucky to have finished the laundry. We regret going out the night before because we are so damn tired now. We collapse on the couch at 9pm and watch a television show and go to bed. We get up the next day and begin the week that we haven't prepared for. We lie awake in the dark and try not to become overwhelmed.

Last weekend, some old Australian friends came into town and they told us of their travel and missionary work. Sarah is amazing and lovely and Nathan, her husband, is too. He is the kind of a guy who gets genuinely happy over something as small as a slice of pizza and this happiness radiates on all who surround him and this makes you happy as well. And I thought, I need to be more like that guy. And I wish that I was.

God, do I wish that.