The Book of Love

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
-The Book of Love

I love my three boys in equal amounts but in separate ways.

Critter is affectionate, he abides by the rules. His version of "play" is to take care of his brothers, the bunny, the dog.

SmudgeE is all out. He dives head first into new situations. He tests boundaries. He gives kisses and fits and equal amounts.

Moose is easy going. He only cries when hungry or tired. Wet diaper, no big deal. He loves to look out the window. He giggles when someone touches his chin.

There is no way for me to list every single thing I love about each of my children. Every day they do something new that causes my heart to melt. New words, movements, understandings...the list could reach the moon.

My hope is that they are happy. That they know I love them. That they love each other.

I think my hope is already a truth.

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
-The Book of Love

The book of my boys is long. It's not boring to me.
If I listed all that I love about my kids I couldn't lift the pages.
I've got notebooks filled with facts about first words, first steps... and even videos of first dances.

A mama's love knows no boundaries. There are no limits, nothing too big, nothing too small.

The Firemen

Some where, in this town, there are a group of heroes. In the fog of panic, I cannot remember their names.

On September 2, a completely hysterical Mama called 911. She yelped "My son is dying! Send SOMEONE! ANYONE!!"

A band of men later burst through the door and made a gray baby pink again.

Thank you, Big Burly Men.

I loved you then, I love you now, I'll love you always.

Doesn't everyone know paint has fiber?

I took all 3 babies to a paint your own pottery place today. It's become tradition to take each baby to make a birthday plate on their first birthday. It's also tradition to have a hand print and foot print plate made when each baby is a couple weeks old.

Since Moose was still in the NICU on his 2 week birthday he didn't get plate made until I took Smudge for his birthday one today.

Smudge got his prints done first and then we did Moose's. As the employee was finishing up helping paint Moose's hands and stamp them, Smudge made a bee line for a very precarious looking stack of sushi platters. I dumped Moose in his bucket and rescued my wallet from at least 200 bucks of "they break it, you buy it" dish ware.

I returned to find a now sleeping Moose with tan paint covering his lips and a tiny tan colored thumb stuck in the corner of his mouth.

Horrified, I yelped "Moose Goose! Paint is not for eating!" The pottery employee looked over and calmly said "At least paint has fiber! I mean, it's gritty like fiber. Well, at least the bottle says it's non toxic!"

This new information helped to greatly ease my mind as I spent the next 10 minutes trying to gently pick what is probably Chinese manufactured, lead based paint from Moose's little lips.

Bouncing is what Tiggers do best!

Earlier tonight I was writing a post to a Mama's Group I am fortunate (and unfortunately) a part of. We are all mothers who were to have babies in May of 2008. We didn't have those babies, but now we have one another.

In the aftermath of writing a "woe is me" post in our group forum, about Moose still being hospitalized and Critter and Smudge being without me most of every day, I realized just how lucky I really am.

Though I struggled, and still do, with my initial loss, I gained so much. If it weren't for Oscar, I wouldn't have the support group I do now. I wouldn't have Critter, Smudge, or Moose. If everything in my life hadn't played out exactly how it did, I wouldn't have the life that I have right this moment. And my life at this moment is pretty flipping awesome.

I have babies born 13 months and 10 months apart. How many Mamas can say that?

I have a group of friends who know where I'm coming from. They validate me and challenge me and chat with me when my country is asleep.

As stressful as these last few weeks have been, I know me, and I know that one day I'm going to look back and wish I were here again.

I want to hold on to each second of every day. There is a chance that I'll never again be this burdened or this blessed.