Fire in the Sky

We went to our first fireworks show of the season this weekend. A warmup, if you will. Last year, Ethan threw a fit of magnificent proportions on the 4th of July, complete with leg kicking, arm flailing, nose running, and tears gushing. The majority of the incident was spent with him in the car, attempting to soothe his fear and quiet him down and failing miserably.

Before the festivities began this time, we aspired to fabricate as much preparation as possible. We were all “POW! POW! FIREWORKS!”, and he was all “POW! POW! FIREWORKS!”, hand gestures included, and everyone was smiling and happy. With the first illumination, however, Ethan turned from smiling and happy to hostile trepidation. At least we didn’t leave with a layer of snot covering his chin, though, so I’ll consider it a success.

I wanted to take pictures, but it’s difficult to balance a camera, 3 kids, and a blanket without dropping someone and/or breaking something. Instead, I’ll use my super awesome power of the written word; they were big, they were bright, they were colorful, and they were loud. It’s like you were right there, isn’t it?

Or, as Jayden proclaimed after a particularly vibrant color burst, “The guys on the moon could see that!”

If Only For a Moment

It’s a madhouse around here during the day, to say the least. A bright spot has emerged, however, and that’s Maddie’s late afternoon nap. Not for the obvious reasons, either. Although I’m definitely ready for a break by then. And vodka. Lots and lots of vodka.

More often than not for a few weeks now, she’ll awake long before naptime is officially over. Her eyes still groggy and cheeks puffed red with sleep. I’ll lay her on my shoulder, where she’ll instantly collapse, and let her slumber for as long as possible while I struggle to stay alert. Her hand grasping onto my shirt, her whisps of hair tickling my nose. During this time, I try to forget all of the need-to-do’s, should-do’s, and please-don’t-do’s. No appointments to set, dishes to wash, or butts to wipe. It’s just me and her, cuddled together on the couch.

Of course, the boys usually have a thing or two to loudly say about this. I guess whispering is a skill learned at a later stage in life. Especially Ethan, with his high-pitched shriek of a wake-up call. He tends to be our regular nosedive back to Earth. Maddie’s head will raise, slightly sweaty, skin adorned in fabric wrinkles. She’ll look at me, glance around, and flash her trademark four tooth grin. After this, the day doesn’t seem so mad anymore. It’s downright pleasant, actually. If only for a moment.

My Little Boy

I don’t like discussing this at length because I feel like I’m doing him a disservice, but Ethan has an appointment for a speech evaluation next week. I already know what they’re going to say, and it’s why we’re taking him. He needs help.

We should have done this sooner. I wanted so strongly to believe that “he’ll talk when he’s ready”, though, just like everyone said he would. He’s your typical, happy 3 year old holy terror in every other way. Playful, sociable, affectionate, intelligent. I think that’s why it was so hard to sink in.

He’s better than he was even a few months ago when I initially made the appointment. A lot better, actually. He’s trying. I can tell the button is there, it’s just not clicking completely. Still, most of what he says is unintelligible or similar in sound. The 3 to 4 word sentences he should be speaking by now? Not even close.

So on Tuesday, I get to watch a group of strangers over-analyze my son. It’s not something I’m looking forward to, but I know it has to be done.

When I Move, You Move

Since I already posted a video of Maddie standing, I suppose it’s only appropriate that I post a quick snippet of her walking as well. As an added bonus, I can’t help but find her punchy swagger and fixated look of careful concentration hilarious.

However…

Why is she walking so soon? She’s only 10 months old! WHERE DID MY BABY GO?

Proceed with Caution

Guess who took the driver’s test this weekend?

Guess who TOTALLY ACED the driver’s test this weekend?

Guess who is never showing her driver’s license picture to ANYONE, EVER? No, officer, NOT EVEN YOU. I think I’d rather go to jail.

Guess who was ABSO-FREAKIN-LUTELY terrified? I wasn’t even that scared to go through labor. Although in labor’s defense, I was in TOO MUCH PAIN to be afraid. Plus, there is no pass or fail when you have a baby. You can’t come back in 2 weeks to try again. IT’S COMING OUT IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, NO MATTER WHAT.

WHY AM I COMPARING THE TWO?

Anyway, I am a legal driver. Again. And I am so glad that’s over. Except now, I have no excuse when handing over errands.