1) Mimzi's chemo is done and she's growing hair. You should see her eyebrows! Think Al Franken... or don't if you'd rather not.
2) Biscuit is now in high school, taking two honors classes and an extra period in addition to marching band, which practices twice a week. He doesn't get enough sleep. Neither does his alarm clock (that would be me).
3) The Beans are now 2 and GIGANTIC, verbal, and at least one Bean is pooping on the potty willy-nilly. Parki still loves nakedness, but Pipsi? Every time I ask her she answers, "No. Not yet."
About six weeks ago, little Sparki Parki finally got a cute little leg over the top of her crib rail. The rest of her shortly followed, along with an obligatory thump and a subsequent wail. Knowing this was inevitable (and that her twin would waste no time falling to the floor in a similar, slightly blonder heap) I was well-equipped with two crib tents to keep the Beans sequestered in the safety of their cribs until I was ready to remove absolutely everything from their room, cover the floor in that spongy-rubber playground cover and convert their much-abused cribs into toddler beds.
Once Parki made her escape, I pulled out the tents, ready to assemble and slap them on whenever necessary. But the funny thing was, Parki didn't repeat her feat for another week or so. Figuring it was a fluke (stupid me!!!) I let it go, but kept the tents in mind, telling myself that I needed to wash them and make sure everything was going to fit, blah, blah, blah-- oh hey, wait, I have to start dinner and finish the laundry or else everything's going to go to hell this afternoon and the kids won't have pajamas and I have to put a new sheet on Parki's bed because she whipped off those pants and poopy diaper AGAIN before I got her up from her nap and I still have to thaw the chicken... You get where this is going.
So, one Tuesday morning I emerged from a five-minute shower and heard Parki calling me.
"Mommy?"
I thought I'd left the TV on. I must have, thought I, because that little voice that sounds so much like little Parki cannot be, in fact, my daughter, because that voice sounds like it's right outside my door, and my daughter is in her crib.
Dripping wet, freezing, and freaking out, I yanked open my bedroom door. No Parki.
"Mommy?" Again.
I stepped across the hallway and gently pushed open the Beans' bedroom door. "Parki?"
There, in the doorway, wearing a gigantic smile (and, thankfully, also her pajamas) stood Pleased-as-Punch Parki.
"Hi, Mommy!" Oh, the cuteness!
Beaming down from her crib at her twin was Pipsi, tongue lolling out the side of her smile and standing on one leg, the other slung over the top of her crib.
"Hi Beans! Where are you going Pipsi?" I asked carefully.
"Out!" Pipsi proclaimed.
"Wow! How did you get all the way over here, Parki?" I asked Parker while picking up Piper.
"Climb out. Mommy all wet!" Parker answered and quickly changed the topic of conversation. She's so much like her daddy.
"Hair wet. Mommy hair all wet!" Echoed Pipsi. Hmmm. I could see where this was going.
"Yes, Beans. Mommy was in the shower when you started climbing out of your cribs. That scares Mommy! Please stay in your cribs until Mommy comes in to get you. We don't want boo-boos!"
"No! No boo-boos!" Pipsi agrees. Parki, already halfway down the hall as I begin speaking about the importance of crib safety, returns to poke her little bedhead through the doorway.
"Come on, Mommy. Juice!"
That was the day the crib tents were going on. Except for one little problem. Well, two rather significant problems. Fortunately, things like ill-fitting tents and missing parts are no match for a mother's resourcefulness when it comes to securing for herself a decent night's sleep and the tents have been (mostly) firmly in place for about the last month or so. We just needed to add a couple of parts, take off a couple of others and do it all over again for the next one.
And that got me thinking about everything that we've handled over the past several months. Everything our family's handled, that is. All the changes wrought by Mimzi's illness and forced placement on the disabled list, Biscuit's transition to high school and a true, devoted commitment to something he considers far greater than just an extracurricular activity, and the verbal and social leaps and bounds the Beans make daily now that the images of the two-year birthday cakes look ever smaller in the rearview mirror. Everything's about give and take, and adjusting sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, to get everything done and keep everyone happy.
We're lucky we're so happy. Sure, I've laid aside a few novel ideas for a time when I'll have more than a few moments to toss at them (I first typed "navel ideas", which they might as well be at this point), and I have to keep reminding myself that most all of what I put away now will still be right where I leave it but these moments with my kids will only be here today-- even when today begins at 5:37 AM and feels like it's going to last FOREVER. Bring it all on. I'm glad to have it :)
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