School days

Well, we made it through the first couple of weeks of school. Rara seems to have weathered the transition from his safe little charter school to the chaotic hormone laden atmosphere of middle school well. It is glaringly apparent to me that we have a full fledged pre-teen among us. From the long hair that he insists on having over his eyes to the hoodies that "everyone" wears and had to be bought. My heart aches for him as he enters this period of his life. I know that he will do well, and I know that manicpapa and I will support him through it, and yet... Middle school as I remember it is hell. I have no recollection of any learning at all. Just a mess of angst, politics, and worry over if my hair was kinky enough and my jeans were tight at the ankle (it was the 80's what can I say)...

That was also the time of my life that I began shoplifting daily. Although I knew it was wrong, and we had always had enough money that it was not necessitated by need, I did it and did it well. I stole anything and everything I could think of. Looking back, I see that I was vying for my unavailable mothers attention, but at the time I just liked doing it. The surge of adrenaline, the feeling of having gotten away with something, I marvel at how brave I was, and how brazen. I hope to god that somehow my children will not be as rebellious as I was, and will escape the teen years unscathed (and un prosecuted:). I guess all we can do is hope, and keep a close eye on them.

Lu is turning two

Well, It's official, we are no longer the parents of babies. In particular, our last baby is now anything but. She is talking, running, and generally just a fun amazing little human being...and she turns two on Monday.
While I am continually amazed at having created and cared for this delicious, sweet angel girl, I am overcome with a sadness too. Her babyhood has passed me by so quickly, and my awareness of this is so heightened this time around because I have learned through the other two just how precious and fleeting these moments, months and years are.
As nice as it is that these three are gaining Independence, getting so smart and unique, and letting us sleep through the night, I can't help but pause, bury my nose in a flannel receiving blanket, and tear up just a little at the passing of the "baby days". Maybe all women do this for the rest of their lives? maybe long after menopause has come I will still be able to close my eyes and call up the smell of warm enfamil, the way their bellybuttons looked with the cords still attached, and the way the little swaddled bundles felt in my arms, so tiny yet so firm and complete.