Stream of thought...

Whew. Finding it harder to post MEANINGFUL posts nowadays. Busy bee that I am. You know, with all of my own INTERESTS. Like sitting at soccer practice, helping with homework, and walking to school and back 3 times a day. Oh, and my favorite of being solely responsible 90% of the time for 3 kids. (Patrick's new hours are really killing me...). BUT. Then I think about the fact that I am blessed to have 3 healthy children that can PLAY soccer, that the boys are actually not resistant to homework (yet) and that I am still brilliant enough in their minds to KNOW their homework. :) I'm sure the day will come that I have to actually THINK about their work, all too soon...

I'm amazed that my mind can be in 17 places at once. Right now, I am listening to Corinne in the other room. Watching the Wiggles... how many more years of preschool shows do I have? How much longer will it be acceptable for me to hold a conversation in Playschool Disney lingo and be able to blame it on having a baby? (BTW, gotta write to Disney channel. I'm sure they don't realize that they have Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on at the WRONG time. It should be on when we arrive home from our morning walk from school. Please correct this problem, Disney execs. Thanks much.) Corinne shouts for "Meekey Mouse Cubhouse!!" the second we walk in the door. Must record more of those shows...

Yesterday brought another bout of slap-your-face gratitude for me. How can I bitch about Justin's soccer practice when thousands of families are marking another year gone without their loved ones? I had a whole post in my head about how I was angry that Justin was getting pushed around by a few boys at practice yesterday. I didn't want to jump in as I'm sure I would have embarrassed him, but it was breaking my heart. Of course, when they push him, he pushes back and he always seems to be the one that is caught. Sigh... And when I talked to him, he justified it with "they're my friends, Mom!" Yeah. Do "friends" single you out and trip you? I am teetering on the edge of what is appropriate for boys to be "boys" and what is bullying... Patrick will be home in time (theoretically) tomorrow so he can sit with me and help me judge the practice. But in the big scheme of things, 8 year old bullies are no big deal. Adult bullies with airplanes and guns: those are the real bullies. Maybe they were mean as kids??? Note to all: hug a bully. They need some love.

I have threads of thoughts that rush through my head every day. Right now, I could write about the picture of my grandmother on my desk, as a young woman, sitting with her Mother, and one sister and one brother (there were 7 siblings). How different and how similar our lives were...

(My grandma is on the far right...)

I could write about how I cried this morning when I found out that I couldn't take Corinne to a birthday party on Saturday because Patrick has to work. WHAT is up with that? Emotional overload that just has to spill out somewhere? Yes... probably...

I could write about how proud I am of Evan. He has really taken to school. He hasn't had any issues with other kids, with keeping his hands to himself, or with following rules. He gets only "green" days and seems to be making tons of friends. Yesterday, he came into the house, grabbed his extra writing book I have had for him for about 2 years now, and started practicing his letters. WITHOUT prompting! WithOUT any rewards! Just because he likes school and wants to get better at his letters!! I must document that, for it will pass only too soon, I am sure! Still, to have such a different experience with Evan in school is nice. He and Justin are so completely different, it's almost impossible to define.

I could write about how Justin's school year is 1000% different than last year. That he is doing his homework every night, following the routines, and that he hasn't gotten in any serious troubles. That this is amazing to me. That, aside from 2 episodes this week (one at soccer practice. Sigh...), his tantrums have also taken a serious nosedive. That I am FINALLY hopeful that things are maturing in his head. That he may be "normal" one day and not have to have explanations for his behavior. He will always be the stubborn one. The one to question EVERYthing. But that's ok. I honestly have no idea where he got that trait, ahem, but I know that it's not a bad trait. I am personally grateful that I question things, and that he will, too.

I could write about the lovely cool weather. The orange leaves on the oak trees. The yellow bean fields and the joy I felt this morning when I put on jeans. JEANS, people. My butt kicks ass in jeans. Shorts, meh, my legs are ok. But my butt was always my saving asset (heh, heh asset) in high school, and still looks pretty good. As long as it's ensconsced in bluejeans. Oh, and that my belly isn't hanging over the top. Then I'm solid. :)

So. Here I am. Happy, sad, cold, caffeinated, busy, lonely, grateful, and greedy.