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The Chief has had a rough transition, bless his heart.

He loves his sister Ever, loves holding her and laughing at her little newborn scrunchy face. But he could certainly do without the part where I have to sit on the couch and feed her making me entirely immobile for periods of time. That part makes him all sorts of grumpy, yes sir. He's started to run into the arms of "Woody-Buzz" who generously take him into their world of talking toys and mean kids named Sid.

("You mean that happy child?" "That ain't no happy child.")

It is getting better however and every day we start to see him come out of the fog of it all. I guess I am too, coming out of the fog, and I keep telling myself to go easy about it. My previous standards of motherhood and housekeeping are changing to fit this lifestyle. Though sometimes when I am feeding Ever I have to try really hard not to make mental lists of every observation:

That painting is too high on the wall.

The table needs to be dusted.

Cut The Chief's toenails.

Cut my toenails.

How many times has The Chief watched Woody-Buzz today?

It doesn't take long before my blood pressure reminds me what is important right now is my present presence. To just be here, in the this game, raising my family and loving my husband. Everything else--the repeated fluffing of the pillows--is just that, fluffing.

So tonight when Ever was sleeping and Chup was downstairs working, The Chief and I went to swing outside on the play set. He is the kind of boy who likes you to push him really high. I kept thinking, he's not even two and yet he has this bravery about his body. He has no fear of climbing, sliding or jumping off/on anything. One day we turned around and he was scaling up a ten foot ladder on to our roof.

As I was pushing him in the swing he was laughing because I'd let him swing back and kick me--and for a moment I remembered my life before all of this transition came knocking. And when swinging got old we kicked balls against the back fence--and when one went over the fence into our neighbor's yard I lowered him over and he retrieved it. And when that got old we heard Ever crying from inside.

I know it's been rough this past month on the boy. There have been times when I wished for a switch that could fast forward this part. But there is no doubt about it, I love his guts.

To infinity, and beyond.

On My Other Blogs Today:
dear c jane:
yellow chairs?

c jane's Guide to Provo:
Invitation to a Provo's premiere yard sale . . .

I am c jane and for the most part I am still in the fog.
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