Just write

Sometimes when I haven't written for a while I start thinking "Now I can never catch up...." and it becomes this overwhelming task in my mind to even try, so I just don't write at all for a while. I have to remind myself that I can never write it all. I just write what I can. And someday I'm sure I'll be glad for those couple of sentences I had the time to jot down, and the way they help me to remember.

I have been tired, so, so tired. I'm feeling better, and this is the earliest the sickness has been gone in my pregnancies so far. So normally I'm still spending lots of time at home and on the sofa at this point. I'm so very grateful to be feeling more myself, but I think I tried to jump back into "normal" life too quickly. I just don't have the energy.

I also didn't have two spunky little boys to chase around all day before either. Maybe that makes a difference?

I am so thankful for them. Those two personalities and little souls that spend every minute of the day with me.

As we get ready for bed at night lately Drew says to me "Mommy I can't wait to snuggle with you!!" with this big smile on his face. The other night when we were all in bed he got in this really sweet mood all of the sudden and started telling each of us how much he loved us, going around and giving hugs and kisses to Shaun and Isaiah and me. I have been looking at this little boy lately, thinking how he's going to be four this fall... and I just can't believe it! There seems to be so much that goes on in his mind. He is always taking things in and processing, deciding how to react to different situations. He easily gets quiet, shy, or embarrassed if he misreads something and thinks he is too much the center of attention or that he did something wrong. At the same time, when he is completely comfortable with his surroundings he is full of laughter, says the funniest things, loves to dance and be chased and tickled and wrestled.

And my Isaiah boy... ever so quirky that he is, two things come to mind that are recent obsessions of his... The boy LOVES to pray. He pronounces it "pay", but at the dinner table every other minute he is reaching for my hand with his sticky little fingers and wanting to "pay" again. When we say amen he throws his hands up in the air in celebration. The other thing my little saint is obsessed with? Saying "no". He has a rather extensive vocabulary, but it seems almost all other words have taken a leave of absence while he explores the power contained in that one little word. He has a multitude of voice inflections he uses, everything from his dainty, soft spoken, with his head cocked to one side and a little half smile on his face no, to his medium no with the head shake and determined expression, to his screaming no, to his yelling no over and over again while he runs from the room acting like he's being chased by something that's threatening his very existence, and everything in between.

While I was typing the above two paragraphs, the dog threw up on the living room floor while the boys were simultaneously dumping his bag of dog food all over the kitchen floor.  It is now several hours later, the messes have been cleaned up, the boys are down for their naps, and I'm wrapped in blankets (because it seems I am perpetually cold this pregnancy) with my feet up recovering.

(Do any other mamas out there feel like they rarely accomplish much that shows in a day because they mostly spend it cleaning up messes that weren't there when they woke up??)

Picnics. We've been having a lot of them recently. We took the boys to the park for our yearly spring picnic and spread out our eagles blanket and had roast beef sandwiches and potato salad and doritoes and then we played on the playground and fed the fish and flew kites one Saturday. This past saturday I had told Drew we'd have a picnic in our backyard but it was too chilly out. So instead, when we got home from picking up our chicken bbq lunches, we spread a blanket out on the living room floor and picnicked there. Besides those, Drew has been creating imaginary picnics for us too, where he spreads out a blanket and calls for me to come sit with him and tells me what he made for lunch. One time it was chicken and green beans and potatoes, and I could choose lemonade or milk to drink. What a balanced menu! I was impressed! :)

Thoughts on losing a grandparent... Some people say it's easier when you know it's coming and they lived a long full life. I wouldn't say that. Last spring I lost my cousin through tragic, horrific, completely unexpected circumstances. I had many thoughts along the lines of how much was still left of his life, all he was still supposed to do and be, the children he would never have... and then there is the horrible grief of a widow in her twenties, and the grief of parents losing a child that should never be. I don't know what the hardest part of losing Ian was, but a big part of it for me is that I feel like I will never fully have closure. There was no goodbye, there wasn't a long, full life to take comfort in. Thankfully I will see him again, but his death was so hard for so many reasons. Then this spring my Poppop passed away. There are a lot of things I can take comfort in. I can take comfort in the fact that we all were together as a family at their house just a few days before he passed away. I can take comfort in the fact that he was at peace, and ready to go. He truly was. I can smile over the fact that him and my mommom lived out their love story, fully and completely. I got the chance to say goodbye. I got the chance to hug him one last time. But I can't understand death being ever being "easier." How do you watch your grandmother holding the hand of her husband of 63 years and kissing his face for the last time, and not feel your emotions crumple your face completely at the thought of all she is saying goodbye to? How do you watch your father say goodbye to his daddy and strain to keep his voice under control while he speaks at the funeral and then looks to the sky to say "I love you dad." How are you supposed to look at generations of grandkids and great grandkids with tears streaming down their faces while they stand by the grave side for the 21 gun salute and the presentation of the flag to my grandmother by the navy and tell me that this is supposed to be easier? 85 years. 85 years of making a difference, being the patriarch, and creating this legacy. I stood in the doorway and watched as they closed his casket, and only the men were left in the room to carry him out. A room full of sons and grandsons and sons in law and grandsons in law. A room absolutely full of strong men. Yes, there is closure, but it doesn't make it easy. To think one man can leave such a legacy.