A few Sundays ago I was reading to the kids on the floor in the toy room. Brennan was at my side drawing and listening; Zoe was at my feet listening; and Ava was on my back trying to balance (and presumably hurt me a little) as she walked from my feet up to my neck. About halfway through a Shel Silverstein poem about a boy who turns into a TV (Jimmy Jet and his TV Set), Ava fell off my back...onto Brennan...who had paused his drawing and was contemplating his next sketch...with his pencil sticking straight up in the air. Point up. Ava took the pencil in the butt. Upon further investigation the pencil had plunged through her pants, through her diaper, and into her little butt cheek, missing the rectum by about...oh, I don't know, 1/8 of an inch. Awful. The curious thing is that each of her cheeks had a small laceration. Which means that she flexed her butt at just the right moment, stopping the pencil from plunging into her. Fantastic. Quick Ass Ava.
The next morning I took her to the doctor to have them look at the wound and to remove as much of the graphite tattoo as possible. During this process I was up near her head, telling her it would be alright, singing songs, and making her favorite noise (flatulence). To no avail. Ava was not happy. For the first 3 minutes she just cried. But after that, she began to swing at me. Not pawing at me like a helpless kitten, but rather taking great swipes at my nose and eyes. I reminded her that she would be getting a toy after the doctor (in our house, trauma equals toys. We do it equally for all the kids. Ava gets stabbed with a sharp object, she gets a toy. Brennan goes through the window requiring 27 stitches, he gets a toy. Zoe has the hiccups, she gets a toy). However, even the reminder of a toy didn't help Ava this time. She simply continued to hit me while saying, "Toy! Toy!"
In separate but related news, Ava has been throwing up since Saturday night, and I think we've bonded as a result. Lori was out doing some Christmas shopping on Saturday night when the puking began. Over the course of 1.5 hours Ava threw up 4 times. The first one was a full body doozie--in the hair and on the socks (it happened while she was sleeping). It totally grossed her (and me) out. After that, however, she made it to the bowl and simply did her thing. When she was finished, she would glance up at me, and in a soft, vulnerable, stoic little baby voice, she would mutter with matter of fact simplicity, "All done." It was so strong, and I think she knew that I was impressed. I am impressed, Ava *.
b is for birthday
Brennan had a pretty great 8th birthday. Cousins, pizza, new indoor shoes, Brasil jersey (with "Breninho" on the back), his own scriptures, and (still unbeknown to him) his own blog. Our good friend Mel put this together for him and I think it's going to be a big hit. For some time now, Brennan has been threatening to take over my blog. "Mine would be funnier," he claims. He's probably right. And now he'll have the chance to prove it. With a growing son, this bit of reality is becoming more and more apparent--the truth is, he probably will be funnier than me, smarter than me, taller than me, kinder than me, and stronger than me. There is plenty of literature (fiction and non-fiction) which describes this familial friction, but I honestly think it's kind of lovely.
Now I don't want him to murder me for my kingdom or anything, but I'm also not going to banish him to ensure it doesn't happen. I want him to one day cast a shadow on me. A big, brazen, better-than-my-shadow kind of shadow. This process has been described by sociologists as "demographic metabolism." The replacement of the generations creates opportunities for societies (and families) to rethink, and perhaps redefine roles, rights, responsibilities, and rewards. There is some evidence out there that this connection between changes in culture and the gradual and continuous processes of individual aging may even intersect with personality development. And here is where that intersects with what I believe: Brennan is Brennan. He always has been, and always will be. However, as one part of a collective (family, school, Church, teams, society, other kids his age, etc.) he will both change his environment, and be changed by it. An actor to act, not entirely an object to be acted upon.
This makes me happy for the future, because Brennan is an extraordinary kid. He is kind and funny. Smart and social. Strong and polite. He changed our lives when he was born 8 years ago and continues to shape our family for good. We were 23 when he was born--barely able to care of each other, let alone a little boy. But Brenno, you've made it to eight. Despite the shortcomings of your parents (mostly your father, your mom is usually spot on as a mom), you are pretty darn great. Your mom and I love you. Your sisters adore you. Your friends enjoy you. And to all of this I say, demographic metabolism, roll on.
z is for ziti (and other delicious food)
Zoe loves to be involved in things we are doing. Domesticity and care-taking come very natural to her and if the thing we are doing involves either of those elements (which we try to keep to a minimum), she's in the mix. Now, let me back up a minute to discuss the dichotomous nature of this domesticity. Recently I walked into the living room and inquired of Lori where Zoe was. "She's in the bathroom. With Dora the Explorer. Who is stuck in lava." Upon walking into the bathroom, indeed there I found Zoe with her life-size Dora doll, who did appear to be stuck in something. Zoe confirmed that it was lava. Now that I have unfairly characterized Zoe as Kathy Bates in Misery, let me continue. Last night Zoe was helping us make fish. She pulled the fish out of the packaging, put it on the pan, and seasoned it ever so carefully. After it was time to take the dinner out of the oven, Zoe insisted on serving it to Lori and Brennan. She got the plate all ready, then walked it out to Brennan. She put it in front of him, and after taking his first bite, she asked, "Did it blow up your mind?" Mind blown (up). It was delicious.
Zoe's one-liners are pretty fantastic, as I think I've written about before. I posted one such one-liner on Facebook (the one about Mommy "even marrying Daddy with that mole on his face"), and it received 26 'likes' and 12 'comments.' Which says to me that Zoe has pretty broad appeal...and may be saying things that everyone else is thinking. I mean, c'mon. Who doesn't want to see an episode of Dora the Explorer wherein she is trapped in lava and can't make it over to Bubble Gum Island?
Demographic metabolism! You blow up my mind, G. You never fail to enlarge both my understanding of the human condition and my vocabulary, and that is truly both-ends sick, dude. And by that I mean, of course, way cool.
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