pain

It happened again last night - I got the sniffly, groggy Chase at my bedside around two a.m. - telling me he was having "the pain."

We have been battling knee pain with him for almost a year now. I. HAVE. ABOUT. HAD. IT. The poor kid - I know he's suffering, but the doctors tell us there's not much we can do. We've done rounds of x-rays on hips, knees, and spine. We've consulted two different orthopedic surgeons, as well as begged the free advice of doctor friends. Everyone tells us the same thing - growing pains. The cure? Nothing. You just have to wait it out.

Either that or stop growing.

It's made me think about change and the inevitable growth that we gain from it. I can't think of a single time in my entire life that I had an easy growing experience. Never did shopping happily at the mall ever teach me any life lessons (BLASPHEMY, I know), but true nonetheless. All my life's lessons have come through hard-fought, painful experiences that sometimes seemed more than I could bear. Times when my load to bear felt so heavy that the only thing left to do was cry. Times like trying to sell our house last year. Times like struggling as newlyweds to survive graduate school, bad jobs, and pregnancy. Times like sick kids and all THAT entails - bodily fluid so endless you feel like you're bathing in it.

But as time passes, and I gain the wisdom that hindsight provides - the leftover that remains is growth. Growth that only comes as a result of the hard times. But it's a good thing. Change is good. Sometimes it hurts, OH, IT REALLY CAN HURT, but the reward you get is greater than the suffering you bore. And the lessons you learn make you strong enough to handle the next thing headed your way. It's as if you need to learn that lesson in order to be ready for the next one. Line upon line, as they say.

So we'll keep on icing that little knee of yours, buddy. I'll stumble down the stairs to that box of Tylenol when I'm not even awake. I'll help you stretch it out so you can sleep. For what we are gaining is a strong little body that will carry you for the rest of your beautiful life.

But like everything in MY life, I just wish it was all a bit more convenient for me.

It isn't.

And I'll get over it.

daddy's little girl


Hannah, oh Hannah. I looked at you today and realized that you are growing up - right before my eyes. It seems like just yesterday that we found out the surprising [read terrifyingly panicked] news that you would be joining our family. But the minute we saw your tiny arms and legs kicking around on the ultrasound, I knew it would be okay. And every day since then, it's been more than okay - it's been fantastic.

You are still little enough that you say some of your words wrong - words like fink (think); free (three); busketti (spaghetti); and sum-ping (something). McKay tries to correct you, and every time I stop him. I don't want to lose that last little baby in you. I'm not ready to give you up just yet. I know it's coming - and far too quickly - but I'm just not willing to let it be accelerated by anything.

Sometimes you startle me with the articulate way in which you ponder the everyday. Like tonight when you matter-of-factly lifted up your nightgown, pointed south, and told me, "That's where babies come out." How you figured that out, I'll never know - BECAUSE I'VE AVOIDED THAT TOPIC LIKE IT WAS A TOXIC POISON. But that's you - just tell it like it is. You have the ability to observe, analyze, and process life in such a way that is well beyond your years. I truly believe you are an old soul.

It makes me laugh sometimes when you make Daddy work for your affection. It's kind of like you've already got men all figured out - and you know you can use your charm to make them come to you. But you are in reality putty in his hand - it's him you seek when you come screaming after you see a bee or find a spider.

You are sensitive - OH, THE SENSITIVITY. But with that comes a heart so big, so full of love that it gets us through the tough girl moments. You have helped us all see the world from your eyes, which has brought a good balance to this house full of rough boys. You have become my ally, my partner in crime, my teammate. You are my tiny, talking shadow - following me from the early morning to bedtime at night. I know I will miss your constant chatter this year when you go to school. I will miss each baby part of you that disappears as you grow. And although I can't wait to love and cherish the girl you are becoming, I will always long for my baby girl. And until every last bit of baby is gone, I promise to treasure those thousand little pieces that make you who you are. I love you, little chica.

this week's lessons

  • When I have out-of-town visitors and we are planning outdoor activities, a freakishly large rainstorm will blow in, rain ALL DAY, and ruin our plans.
  • Sea World, the day after said rainstorm, should be avoided like the plague. All the people who were rained out will try and go the next day. Lines will be hours long. We will leave in disgust.
  • Reading to my kids truly makes me happy. (Current read: Bridge to Terabithia)
  • Do not attempt to tease Hannah about the messy state of her bedroom by calling her "Templeton." It will "WEALLY HURT HER FEELINGS!"
  • Grey's Anatomy is the best show ever.
  • School vacation week in February is so much better without snow on the ground.
  • Taking dinner to a friend who's just had a baby will make me want another baby. FOR ONE WHOLE SECOND. Then it's gone, and I'm glad to have my big kids.
  • Critter Camp (a day camp for the boys while they're out of school this week) is made much more exciting by the turtles "fighting" each other [read: MATING].
  • Drastic life changes are good.
  • Favorite thing of the week: Colin Hay on the I-Pod.

a conversation

(Scene: All You Need is Love playing on the I-Pod. Me, cooking dinner; Hannah at my side.)

Hannah: Did that song say all you need is love?

Yeah, isn't that great?

Hannah: That's not great. You don't just need love.

Well, what else do you need?

Hannah: You need cousins, grandpas, brothers. You need bunnies. Oh, and you really need food. You can't do ANY-FING without food. See, Mom, you need more than just love.

Pardon me. I stand CORRECTED.

blogging

Mom, are you blogging? Oh man...

Why the disgruntled child, you ask? Because, quite simply, he wants the computer for himself. He strode in to my desk with hope in his eyes, only to leave disappointed and bummed that it is my turn at the moment.

Chase has recently begun reading and writing in earnest, and as a reward for that rite of passage, he gets his own email account, just like his older brother. He checks it religiously, about 18 times per day - and if he's lucky - Grandpa will have forwarded on a joke or I will have remembered to send him a little something. I am hoping the novelty wears off soon. This little friend TAKES FOREVER to type a one-line email to me about his love of frogs. While I enjoy frog emails as much as the next mom, I find that I just am not a patient woman.

Sometimes he likes to log on Google and search for stuff. Stuff like frogs. Or fencing swords. The other day he said, "Mom, how do you spell seven-year-old?" When I came in to see what he was googling [so love, by the way, that googling has become a verb!], he was searching for "weapons for seven-year-olds." As if we don't own enough plastic swords, guns, sling-shots, and daggers.

In case you were wondering, we pulled up 1,310,000 hits on that topic.

No wonder I never get a turn on the computer anymore.

life is beautiful

Only my boys could find two ordinary sticks on the beach and turn them into weapons.

Can't say that I'm complaining though. These newly-discovered tools of destruction allowed me a few hours of peace and quiet to reflect on the beauty and wonder that is our Pacific. To reflect uninterrupted on the fantastic life that I do lead.

There was no whining for snacks.

No need to race screaming to the bathroom gripping our privates, desperately trying to make it in time. Seagulls became enemy soldiers. My blanket was base camp. Hannah went blissfully un-teased.

There was no fighting.

We found peace through pretend violence. How much more of a paradox can we be? I love it. Life is good.

[P.S. No seagulls were harmed in the making of this imaginary world (Chase, our own PETA representative, saw to that).]