The other day Josh remarked that I hadn't written a blog post in a while, and that I should remedy that. If this doesn't completely shock you, then it should. Josh is about as pro-internet as a hermit living in Siberia, which is something I really love about him. So, honey, this one's for you.
Here's a summation of our activities in the past few months:
We've been reading lots of books. LOTS. Sometimes when James isn't looking I skip a few pages on the books that I find completely insufferable, but he's starting to get wise to that trick. Most of the books are pleasant, and I don't mind re-reading them a thousand times, but there are a few that I just can't handle, namely I Love You Forever (James always asks why I'm bawling by the end of it), The Cat in the Hat (I guess I'm a wuss when it comes to tongue-twisting prose), and any of the Thomas the Tank Engine books (Uh, Sir Topham Hatt needs to get himself some reliable engines STAT if he wants to make any money at all).
A lovely 8 foot tree that James adored. He was great about the ornaments this year, and none were broken by the time we packed it up! Whew! Although he did have problems waiting to open presents until Christmas. On two occasions I found him sneaking presents, and it was incredibly difficult to not laugh at him when I walked in the room, caught him red-handed, and he yelled, "AH! Go away Mom!"
I had a birthday and to celebrate we made a fort in the dining room. I'm now 27 and plan to make celebratory forts every year from now on.
We blessed Rupert in church, and he was an angel child. He didn't make a peep and kept his wiggling to a minimum. Josh gave him a lovely blessing which included a blessing that he will always listen to his mother. I'm hoping he remembers that when he's 16. There's a picture all the way at the end of this post that is a great size comparison of James and Rupert in the same blessing outfit.
Tummy time is a family affair.
More books. Books in bed, books in the car, books in the bath, books on the potty.
Lots of holiday baking happened in our house. James and I made our weight in sugar cookies for church functions (and our own consumption), and I was a cool mom and let him lick the beater. Baking with a two year-old has got to be the most patience-inducing activity on earth. I had to remind myself about 168 times that he was little and uncoordinated, and that's ok. Children make messes and that's ok. Two year-olds don't care about the perfect thickness of sugar cookies, and that's ok. But in the end it was pretty fun for the both of us.
We went to go see the lights at the Mesa temple and James was less than impressed. He mostly spent his time running up and down aisles of chairs. He was interested in all the nativity scenes and we walked the circuit five or six times making sure we had seen all of the baby Jesuses. We talked about Jesus a lot this Christmas and how this time was the time we celebrate his birth. While I don't think he's able to comprehend that much, he does talk about Jesus a lot in our conversations, and I'm good with that for now.
This expression is common on Rupert's face. Whether he's being enthusiastically loved on by his brother, or the witness to one of James' meltdowns, there's usually something to be alarmed of in this house.
All my boys. I love being able to say, "My boys." There's something very satisfying about it.
Even James has trouble getting through a Thomas the Train book.
James on the left, Rupert on the right. And they're both the same age here. I'm worried about them when they're about 11 and 13, and Rupert ends up being four inches taller and thirty pounds heavier, and they have a disagreement about something. Yikes!
I'm finishing this post up a few days after writing it, and I'm definitely having one of those moments of mom bliss. I was rocking James to put him down for a nap and I had an overwhelming feeling of gratitude (GAH! There I go with the tears!) for these two boys. I know everyone always says it's a struggle, and they're absolutely right. Sometimes I can't stand being a mother - children know how to push your buttons in the most annoying way possible, but far more often I feel an immense joy and sense of responsibility. I'm intensely grateful that I get to hang out with them on a daily basis. Ok, wiping the tears off my keyboard and pushing publish now.
