Change. It's constant around here. Makes you realize you're alive, for sure. It's also, all the while, sometimes stressful, sometimes transcendent.
Danny can put his PJs on all by himself now. This is something I've wanted since forever, and yet, and yet. I left his Buzz Lightyear PJs on his bed for him, with the threat of "no UmiZoomi show" dangling, and within minutes he ran out, with two hands up for a "high ten" - shouting "I did it! I did it by myself!" Wow. When did that happen, really? I didn't teach him that... He's really growing up. How wonderful, and how bittersweet.
Danny also has real, true, honest-to-goodness nightmares now, that involve trains and losing Daddies and people going through the cat-door, and monsters that are sometimes good and sometimes bad. It means he can't sleep, basically, and he and Matt are waking each other up from 2am on. When we go through stretches of this, it's miserable. Not sleeping 5 hours in a stretch for weeks at a time is agony, misery, murder, stress, woe, you pick your favorite word, because they all work. On the 20th day in a row you are awake from 2:30-5 by crying and goings-on, you will be depressed, question why you had children, question whether you actually love those children, and wonder if they wouldn't be better off in a van down by the river. And yet, and yet. The other day David left Matt on the bed with me, with a pillow barrier so his little rhythmically pushing feet wouldn't rhythmically push into me, and I woke up to him sleeping soundly, gorgeously next to me. Little gorgeous lips and little gorgeous lashes and little gorgeous arms flung up over his head. I just watched him sleep for nearly an hour. Simple divinity on this Earth.
Today was our long day - our Thursdays where I'm with them all day, through dinner, bath, etc. Dave's new job location at Fox has been a literal God-send in that it gets him home in time for at least bedtime every night, and usually dinner, bath AND bed. It's an embarrassment of Daddy-riches.
But even today, which is my hard day, it was a very, very good day. We cut down a dozen avocados from the tree, Danny pointing out which were ready to go. We played a marathon game of hide-and-seek, and once Danny found me in my very best hiding spot (in his closet with the door closed) all by himself. Matt can even seek all by himself, and he's pretty darn good - doesn't hurt that Danny can't stand him looking too long and starts snickering (loudly). We washed all of the Mimis (blankets) and Buddies (stuffed animals) and Matt's beloved Taggies. We read a dozen books all together on the floor, all on our bellies, legs kicking in the air. We sang "Baby Beluga" together and Matty's finally getting it - singing along the last word in each stanza, waiting for it to come. We had mac and cheese for dinner with sausages, and since Danny really only wants the sausage and Matty really only wants the pasta they each ate their part, and then switched - and nobody complained about it being "slimy" like Danny usually does.
There have been so many times when I wondered if we'd really had these guys too close - that they would inevitably fight, or compete to the point of never getting along as adults. We've gotten that "advice" - that "Whoops, you know, boys that close, they just compete and...(trailing off to suggest plots of murdering each other in the night)." And it was so, so, so x 1 million times exhausting for the first 18 months. But whether it's just their temperament, or whether it's our nearly-constant reminder to them that they need to look out for each other, something is working - somehow, they really seem to love each other and are really, truly, just glad the other is around. It's exhausting, for sure, but the long-range hope is finally taking shape.
They worry about each other, check up on each other. Danny is upset and Matt asks, "OK Danny?" (Which actually sounds like "OK Ninny?" - and will never not be funny to me.) Matt falls down, cries, and just when I'm at my wits' end, Danny runs to get him his beloved Taggies and all is well. Danny doesn't even try to exclude him when his friends are here, because he's really just not an annoying little brother. He just wants to play, and he's really really funny. Which he'll tell you himself: "I'm fuuunny!" Danny doesn't want to leave Matt at the playground and play with other kids, at least not always. The siren song of the older boys will always be sweetest.
We got the preschool schedule for Danny next year, and it seems he'll be there every afternoon, and Matt will join him three afternoons a week. I feel an enormous sense of relief when I think about this, simultaneous with such grief. It's so weird, so interesting. They have been my babies, and they aren't going to be forever. I've held on tighter than most of my friends, been unwilling or unable to let go for so much longer than others have, putting them in Day Care, or with nannies. The time is coming when I'll have 10 hours a week, all to myself, when they are off making friends and being soothed by other people and growing. Huh. I honestly forget what that's like. It's going to be weird to find that space again, and really wonderful.
And then, occasionally, we think about having another...
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