We spent Mother's Day with various mothers, eating many bread-like items. I now look five months pregnant. Emma put her hand on my stomach at the deli after we ate dinner, and swore she felt a kick. I told her I'm pretty sure it's just bagels. Considering Barry and I haven't been alone without a kid in the room in almost a year now. Ahh, but it'd be nice to keep having babies. One every few years. They're so tote-able, and everyone loves those blue eyes and blonde hair. The problem is with every baby I have, I get farther and farther from Nathan, my original baby. And I kind of miss him. Although he would never know it from the way I yell at him.
We played some tee-ball in the street while I set Lilly on a blanket in the gutter next to our neighbor's driveway. Sounds bad. She loves the gutter. It is BLANKETED. She practices standing up next to the curb, and throwing tee-balls. She's getting a new tooth, finally, to round out her number to four entire teeth. Emma and Nathan climbed a tree above Lilly, and Nathan clung to the tree, laying on it, inches from where he started, prone like it was a rocket shooting off to the moon, and wailing at Emma who was climbing lightly like a monkey way up high. He couldn't believe she could just do that. Every time she climbed more, he shrieked, "NO, EMMA! DON'T GO ANY HIGHER!" Then he'd say, incredulous, "How is she doing that?" And then "STOP! YOU'RE GONNA FALL."
Here's what's great about a seven year old and a six year old. After climbing, they decided to jump in the mud puddle, the only one in the dirt road. Then they picked up handfuls of gravel and threw them in the puddle. Then they decided that throwing handfuls of gravel in the air above their heads was fun, and letting the rocks rain down on them.
Then they came inside where they watched bad cartoons for a half an hour, and I see why Nathan doesn't like to sit down and watch tv. He gets tired. He sits down and he realizes he can barely stay awake. He's like a ninety year old marathon runner. He likes to keep running because if he stops, wham, three minutes into "Sponge Bob," he's asleep in seconds. At seven he's almost strong enough to mow the lawn by himself. He takes the huge trashcans out, towing them behind his tractor that is way too small for him. He's a worker bee.
Emma only wants to eat corn dogs. Lilly will play peekaboo by putting the blanket on her head herself. She also has sampled dog food three times. Today Lilly took a nap while I read some of Julie Andrews biography.
They really feel the day. Barry and I are staggering through, barely grabbing onto concepts and they're spinning, happily. Stopping in their tracks to yell and point out a helicopter, or a flying insect with yellow dots, or a parachuter. "WHAT'S THAT??" They want to know about everything. Six and seven, and the world is still a wide open, remarkable place.
I got to fall asleep after scraping dirt out of Nathan's nails, and nursing the baby, and brushing Emma's hair. Telling them to put their dirty clothes away. The house is full.
The book is out. We got our book out, now we just have to lead people to the book. I'll have to check in with Barry, the book's mastermind, and see what he's got up his sleeve. I think he's sleeveless, though.
