So, last night my husband and I went out – alone! It was the second time in three years that we have been out alone together. It was great, though a little too festive. We have had a very quiet day today. We went to a great restaurant, Steeples and watched a play, "Life After Hockey" after. The whole affair was a fundraiser for our kids school and was for the most part attended by parents of said school.
The problem is that Shane and I have this history of overindulging and then embarassing ourselves in any number of ways because we think we are actually the cleverest and most smartest people in the world. So, last night was no exception. I think we were the loudest people there and we managed to send "blowjob" shooters (kahlua and whipping cream) to pretty much everybody in the place. We also spent about $70 on those damn shooters.
Apparently, it was fun and has left my brain completely numb today.
I have been on the verge of depression for weeks now. Last night I had the most terrifying dream, losing one of my children. I often dream about trying to keep them all together or losing one here or there. But, the actual death of one of my children. That's our worst fear, right? How do I ever get past that fear, somedays I don't know if I can live my life knowing that I could lose them at any moment.
It's parallizing.
It has made me wake up feeling like total, complete crap and it's raining.
I absolutely love the name Toby, I love it so much I named my perfect 5 year old son Toby. It started as an infatuation with Tobin Sprout from Guided By Voices. I couldn't listen to his CD enough whilst pregnant and eventually knew that THAT had to be the name. Boy or Girl makes no difference to me, my oldest daughter is named Tristan.
Toby is 5 almost 6. He has been the light in my eyes and the pain in my heart since the day he was born. Toby has Apraxia of Speech. He has a small blip in his brain that doesn't allow him to make speech sounds correctly. He knows what everything should sound like, he just can't get the sound to come out. It has been at times agonizingly painful to watch him chastized by children younger than him for talking funny or completely unintelligably and at other times the highest joy that one can imagine when he masters a sound like T at the beginning of words which is so fundamental to the language that all of the sudden some small doors are opened and he is that much closer to being understood.
I agonized and ached over sending him to kindergarten and the problems he would face, and now, having found what I believe is the best little school in the world-he is on the verge of being a kindergarten graduate. He is happy and confident. He has buddies whom he adores. He fills my heart with joy every day as he races out of school just filled with the happiness of being a little boy, a happy little boy.
Or not to wean, that is the question. Parker is almost 20 months old. I weaned all my other kids at 21 months, threee months before I was due with the next baby. It was logical timing and gave me the motivation to get the job done. Parker, on the other hand, is my last baby and while I am eager to have my body back and to get him sleeping through the night, I also know that this is it and as soon as I wean him I will be done with having and nurturing babies. That makes me so sad, really unbearably sad.
I am planning to do it soon, real soon. As soon as I figure out a way to magically conceive my next baby.
My little Old English Hen has gone broody. It is by far the cutest thing I have ever witnessed. This little hen is about the same size as a Quail. In our chicken coop we have three different types of chickens Stella, the Old English broody hen, is the smallest then some little bantams and then some large egg layers. Stella is sitting on two of her eggs, two slightly larger bantam eggs and two of the big brown eggs. She is flattened her little body out over top of all these eggs and only leaves them for about 20 minutes every day and a half. I will take pictures of her this afternoon.
It reminds me of when Shane is away. Me and my four kids have a giant sleepover in my room. We drag in two extra mattresses and all five of us sleep together, It makes me feel like a broody hen watching over her clutch.