The Monkey Barrel

Archive for August, 2005

Today, in the mail, came the letter that every mother dreads. Kindergarten information. Who their teacher will be, what bus they will take, where their class will be. I have not been filled with so much anxiety since the day he was born into the world. Will his teacher be good to him, will he get along with his classmates, will he find his classroom okay, will he remember which bus to get on to come home. So much responsibility placed on a kid who can’t yet tie his shoes. I mean, he can’t remember every day to put his dirty clothes in the laundry. How will he remember to get to class and not dawdle and get sidetracked? Do these adults actually trust five year olds to remember things as important as that? I want to go in the doors with him every day and walk him there and know that he is safe by my own eyes and I want to be at the door when his class is over and I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want him to be grown up, I don’t want to spend everyday waiting for him to come home. But I have to. He has to get out into the world and learn to function. He can’t have his mommy holding his hand for everything. He’s got to figure somethings out for himself. And I have to let him. But I don’t want to.

I was digitizing some video the other day and one of the segments was from Luke’s birth. I know it wasn’t that long ago, but it still strikes me how much he as changed in such a short time. He was such a tiny baby! But the thing that struck me most was a recolection I had about the first moment I saw him.

The first thing I thought I had when the doctor handed him to me was… “He’s not John”.

I felt really badly about that at the time. Guilty that my first reaction seemed to be to compare him to John. Yet after I have had time to let it stew for a while, I don’t think it was disapointment in that thought, that he wasn’t and exact replica of our first son, but that I just could not conceive of a baby coming from Emily and I that was NOT John. I just thoroughly expected him to come out a little John-clone and it really stuck home for me when I first looked on him that he was not John.

I’m not at all sorry that he and John are not 5-year-apart twins, his uniqueness is striking to me almost everytime I look at him. It is truly wonderful.

A guy that I work with has 5 kids and sometimes I joke with him that if he wanted I could tell him what causes that so he could stop. He usually responds that he would have 5 more if he could. That each one of them is so unique and special and he could not imagine his life without every one of them. I thought he was just a bit flaky before, but now I see what he was talking about.

I can’t wait to see what the first 5 years of Lukes life is going to be like and how different it may be from Johns.

If I could count
I’d know there’s ten
But I know they’re at the end of my feet

I reach out and grab them
And stretch and squeeze
To try out these tasty new treats

They bend and wriggle
and clasp together
And are really yummy to eat

It has been told down through the ages that in pools across America there lives a Heinie Monster. From backyards to community pools this mysterious creature has made his appearance. It is said to be a friendly creature but fleeting in it’s appearance. Even in our own YMCA there have been several sightings. Fred and I sighted the creature ourselves just last week. John dove under the water and just as he went down the creature came up. It was a glaring white and we couldn’t believe it had come so close to us. Sadly we have no picture for proof. When John came up he swore he hadn’t seen any evidence of it under the water. Strangely he was laughing and pulling up his shorts. Maybe the monster tried to eat his shorts. Anyhow, Fred and I know what we saw so be on the lookout all you pool goers, for the next sighting may be had by you….

Mommy put me in my fishy tv chair last night, with no fishy tv. Then she put a bib on me and she was holding a bowl and a spoon. She put the spoon in the bowl and put it in my mouth. There was this amazing stuff on the end and I rolled it around in my mouth and smiled and laughed and swallowed. Then she dipped back in the bowl and did it again, and then again, and then again. This stuff is great and I smile really big to let her know that more is okay with me. In fact I try to tell her but she keeps jammin the spoon in my mouth and won’t let me talk. But I don’t care cause this stuff is awesome. I hope she gives me more cause apparently I ate all she had. Woops, nope, time for bed. I guess that’s alright cause I’m awfully tired and I just want my binky and satin bear.

Wash the dishes, make the coffee, fix breakfast, buy the groceries, sweep the floors, dust the furniture, do the laundry, vacuum the floors, change the diapers, bathe the baby, pick up the toys, make the beds, shower the boy, fix bottles, play trouble, weed the gardens, scrub the toilets, put away dishes, prepare dinner, tickle the boy, tickle the baby, hug the boy, kiss the baby, read a book, color a picture, scrub marker from walls, say prayers, tuck in goodnight, turn out the lights. Exhaustion and bliss. I have a home. I have a family. I have love. I have joy. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am content.