"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare."
~Ed Asner

Friday, September 18, 2009

Watch out for flying shoes

I'm on the west side of the state visiting with my family and friends. I spent some time catching up with a couple of girlfriends who are both pregnant right now. I have to say, I love baby bumps. I always have. I just think it's so amazing that there is a little baby growing inside of you. Even when my babies were sucking the life out of me, I was fascinated by my baby bump. Especially when a hand would make it's way across one side of my belly to the other side and sometimes there would be a little imprint on my stomach.

I had an allergic reaction yesterday to something, not sure what. If I had corn for dinner I would have blamed it on that, but whatever it was caused me to spend the rest of my night in a hazy fog and trying to get my lungs to work. I still woke up during the night like I always do, except I couldn't move. I was so drugged up that my body would just not work. Anyway, today is a better day. I'm still not quite myself, but I don't look I'm stoned anymore.

My parents and siblings are having a blast with the babies. Noah is being his usual beasty self and throwing stuff all over the house. Izzy is speaking in her cute, short sentences, and I'm just chillin'. It's nice. Whenever I'm somewhere else and out of our environment, I realize how crazy and chaotic my life is at home. Right now it looks like a toy box exploded in my parents living room. There are crayons and paper all over the counter. Oh, and lets not forget about the shoes strewn about the house. Noah has an obsession with shoes. He's not bias to a particular kind. He likes all colors, shapes, and sizes. He walks around with one in each hand, throws them, chews them...Oh, and his favorite thing to do at home is to throw them down the stairs. I was coming up the stairs the other day with a huge basket of laundry and suddenly found myself dodging flying shoes. Now every morning I have to put all our shoes on the ledge or downstairs, but that doesn't stop him. He finds other things to throw down the stairs, anything really. He is so different that Izzy. He likes to throw things, run into things and wrestle. He walks with his chest puffed out and has this war cry that signals the beginning of destruction. Now Izzy is feisty, and can definitely handle her own, but she reacts and fights differently. She has her own little feminine walk. She was never interested in getting into the dvd's and pulling every single one out. She was never into throwing things down the stairs. She was never into pulling pictures, books, anything within reach of, off of tables, counters, and desks.

They are both so different and yet I can see some similarities. They both have a dramatic flair and creative side. They both like to sing and play instruments. They both love, love, love the water. They have these short moments throughout the day or sometimes week where they are playing well together. They are either intently playing with a toy or they are making each other laugh and being silly. Those are moments I cherish.

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