Kisses and Hugs

I noticed yesterday that I signed my last two posts in a row with "XO". Nothing too odd about that, except that heretofore I don't think I've ended that way. I guess I'm feeling extra kissy and huggy towards ya'll. As I should be, with the support and love I've received over the baby thing and Kate's eating has been wonderful. And in person, I'm pretty kissy and huggy. To my kids, my husband (well, not actually lately, not that he's NOTICED. HRMPH.), and even with friends. Anyway, I will return to those posts' comments whenever I'm needing encouragement.

I'm sitting here eating apples (honeycrisp) and cheddar cheese (extra sharp) and thinking about all of the things that have been on my mind in recent days and weeks. It's sunny and perfectly fall here today, and the rain has stopped, yet my friend's yard remains a lake that is prevented from flooding her entire house by only a wall of sandbags and plastic. Roads are washed out, nearby towns are now nearly islands. Our own basement only became a little damp- though our sump pump had quite a workout- but our house still vaguely smells like wet basement.

So the rains came and went (we got anywhere from 7 to over 10+ inches in 18 hours, depending on which source you listen to), my grandma came and went, Marin's birthday is over, and my husband still hasn't really noticed that I'm not speaking to him.

I have tomatoes rotting on my kitchen counter- which is a wonderful (if guilt-inducing) summer/fall problem to have- and three fat pumpkins outside my back door. I have gourds and popcorn and decorative corn and 8 foot tall broom corn and those weensy little pumpkins that are both decorations and toys around here. The air is crisp and wonderful, and those bright red maple leaves are appearing on the trees and ground, and by day the light is wonderfully golden, and at night I smell woodsmoke. All of this I love, and yet I mourn summer, mourn the passing of time. We only get so many summers in our lifetime, and another one from my own life is over.

I'm also growing exhausted of babywant. I'm so tired of aching for a baby, of pondering my situation, of wondering what will come of this conflict between David and me. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I WANT another baby, I'm so weary of it all. I want the yearning to end, the wondering to be answered, the big question mark about our family's future to reveal it's reality. Will he change his mind? Will I ever be ok if he doesn't?

Then there's Kate's eating situation, which sent panic and alarm through my system (as well as through cyberspace, as I frantically posted about it and sent emails to her teacher). And the comments on that post were so very wise; thank you much for your insight. Tess' comment about how I couldn't "allow or not allow" her to eat really struck a cord with me, mostly because when I stated that I "couldn't allow her to skip 2 meals and a snack everyday", I didn't actually MEAN "allow", but instead I meant "I can't stand by and do nothing while she skips 2 meals and a snack a day". But it made me realize that sometimes? Semantics MATTER, and THIS was one of those times. How I speak to my daughter about this- the very words I choose- actually DO make a difference.

My god, parenting is HARD.

And oh HO HO, did I mention that right after Kate miraculously recovered from her hunger strike that Joan came home with her lunch wholly, 100% untouched? Are you pissing your pants from the hilarity of it all? Luckily it was an isolated incident, but my GOD do I ever have PTSD from last spring's neverending Anxiousgate. Since it wouldn't be unlike them to swap problems- one picking up where the other one left off- I thought FOR SURE we'd have a not-eating-Joan on our hands. Whew.

Lastly, I have my sweet Marin, who proclaims with shock and awe a few times per day "Mommy! I just can't BELIEVE I'm FOUR." The first words out of her mouth on her birthday were "I'm taller now! I'm up to Joan's neck Mommy- I GREW because I'm FOUR!" She told me today "Mommy, look how fast I can RUN. FOUR year olds sure are fast, aren't they Mommy?!" You guys, she is so delightful and charming and sweet. And earnest, my LANDS is she earnest. I hope I never forget her at this age- her soft cheeks and curls bouncing and wide-eyed joy at the world around her. Have I told you how I lie down with her at naptime, and she places her still-chubby hand on my cheek and tells me how wonderful I am, and then falls asleep with her hand still on my cheek?

My god, parenting is wonderful.

P.S. Is it weird that I kind of like that damp-basement smell?