So I bought another chick. The baby and I were at the feed store. She made me do it. We were buying dog food, why not get another chicken? Hank hadn't eaten one in awhile.
We currently have three hens, and all of them lay eggs. Well today, anyway. Two were apparently on strike for the last three days. Maybe there were bugs in the food, or not enough bugs in the food, who knows. All I know is, the kids get home from school, throw down their bikes, leave a trail of ripped off helmets and run to the chicken area to see if there are any eggs. It is a miracle, really, to see actual eggs appear in nests from chickens we know, named Gigi, Cake and The Red Chicken. The Red Chicken lays eggs the size of fat money rolls. In fact, we're feeding her quaters and hoping hundreds might come out the other end. You never know, man. There was Jack and that giant and the golden goose that laid those eggs. Oh but you're saying giants aren't real. Even in, like, Scotland? You never know.
Lilly has a little fever, and is stripped waist-up from her pjs. Sleeping in her little sweaty pile in the bed in Emma's room, which is currently my room. She likes to say "Momma...Hep me" when she's stuck. Or if I say "Lilly, why did you do that??" when she spills something, she'll say "Sowwy Mommy." She also brought me a rag and showed me that she cleaned up where she peed on the floor the other day. Emma's newest thing is to say mean things from the moment she wakes until cereal hits her face and her blood sugar regains the apparently 'nice' levels. She started today with (awake under 1 minute) "I don't like to watch Nathan picking his nose." By the time we got to the breakfast table, she was crying, "Everyone likes brussles sprouts except for me!" She will actually try to think of things to make herself feel bad. Then teh Honey Nut Cheerios work their magic. After school today while I was cleaning the pool and Nathan was playing basketball, I went to find her and she was dressing up in fancy shoes and a sundress, and told me she was pretending she was getting married.
Nathan is half man half beast. He's huge and thick, and sometimes remembers to be thoughtful at shocking times. He rarely ever squeezes the baby so hard she complains anymore. Only occasionally does those short bursts of screams during dinner (to wake us up). He's becoming solid. He's the first up - the leader since Bruce is in Chile surfing. He's got a sense of melancholy (two kids in his class have parents that have died.) He knows what loss feels like. Empathy, I guess, at 8 years old. He asked me today what the word "Counselor" meant. Emma asked what did "for instance" mean. They are complicated people, and there is less time, with the baby needing love too. Plus they are growing, and things are more complex. We can't just look at bugs and eat ice cream. This stage there is more deciphering, looking for deeper meaning in things. There is still fighting, and snuggling, and dependence - both of them still kiss me goodbye in the schoolyard. But I sense the challenging years are still to come, the years where I'll have to use all my faculties to keep up. And I already AM using all my faculties, and I'm having to fire some of the faculty because of budget cuts.
Barry was out making a conference call in the car during bedtime (the only quiet place), so I was putting them to sleep. The baby nursing while the two bigger kids were on either side. Nathan tumbles around to make a little nest in the covers. Emma lays on the edge of the bed, teetery. They are huge, these beauties. Like Nathan said when he saw the new chickie, and looked at the bigger hens pecking around the yard, "Those look giant now." I wish we could keep Lilly small. It's not that they're not great huge, it's just that their bigness will make them capable of doing things like leaving and having their own lives. And this life is so much fun, this little one right here. Even though I've lived every second, seen every second...it's not enough. What a wonderful thing, to have been there for every part of it and not to have reached any inkling of doneness. Maybe in true happiness, there is only this feeling of endless time, with no desire for change, just more, heap on more of this, and turn off the watches.
My life has meaning.
They're growing huge and I don't have pockets big enough to fit in all that they have given me, and all the new stuff that is coming, spreading out around us like a giant sunflower.
