Month Thirty-Seven

Dear Emery, Parker and Isaac,

A few months ago, I started playing"L.et Your Love Flow" by the B.ellamy Brothers.  A lot.  Very old school, I know.  Something about it makes me happy.  And lately, meal times have started to frequently devolve into chaos (you are still fitting into the feeding table-- which means you are TOUCHING EACH OTHER constantly, but in the next several months we will start eating together properly...), I find it to be a particularly appropriate time for musical distraction.  So I put on the song through the house speakers and start to dance uninhibited in front of the feeding table.  Emery almost invariably will start grooving, Isaac will depending on his mood, and Parker releases a series of "No dancing, Mama!"  "Bad choice, Mama!".  Apparently, Parker, you find my dancing to be less than attractive:).  For the last few weeks, through stomach bugs, car accidents, your father busting his knee, and more stomach bugs, I have been in need of musical happiness more than ever.  My dancing is a bit more stilted (neck, back and shoulder not yet back to previous working order), but I groove enough to get the endorphins moving.  Parker seems to have given up the fight... he now just watches the rest of us, nonplussed until the song is over ... that is, until I dance up to him and sing in his face, which invariably produces eruptions of giggles from all three of you.


My camera (really, the attached lens) is heavy so I can't hang it around my neck right now.  As a result I have taken less than a handful of pictures in the last three weeks.  *sigh* Oh well, the rest of your life so far is very well-documented, this month will just have to be the exception:)




Emery:  Your new favorite word is "Prettiful!", as in, "Oh, Mama.  You look so prettiful!".
For months you have carried Wissy around in "her blanket" (actually the blanket your Aunt Jenn made for you when you were born-- you favorite one), but recently you take her EVERYWHERE with you.  And you will occasionally come running up to me, distraught, because one of the boys gave her "owies".  Kisses from Mom along with some hugs from you seems to always do the trick and within no time she is off to again join in the fray.  

As of last week, you are all about ballerinas.  And princesses.  Both things that barely hit your radar screen a month ago.  You love watching O.livia, and she loves to be a ballerina, so I am guessing that is where your new interest started.  You occasionally tell me to watch and then spin and jump while explaining you are a ballerina princess.  I am looking for dance classes and hope to find one for you to start in January:)




Parker:  You are not a fan of having your picture taken.  I do believe you have enjoyed the reprieve the last few weeks have afforded you.  But when I did pull out my camera, you kept pleading, "No pictures, Mama!  No cheese, Mama!".

Just after the car wreck, as the airbag powder was still settling in the car I asked you the first time (of many which followed, I assure you), if you were all right, and if you had any "owies".  This continued until the paramedics came and I felt confident (my confidence bolstered by your crawling all over the inside of the car) that you were uninjured.  About 10 minutes later, while waiting a bloody long time for the police to show up, out of the blue, and while not even looking at me you said," I'm ok, Mama.  Don't worry."  You said it five or six times over the next 30 minutes until your father arrived to pick you up.  You became distinctly distraught by the state of the car.  "Mom, the car is stuck!"  "Make it go! Mom!!"




Isaac:  For your birthday, Grandma and Grandpa F gave you new alphabet d.uplo l.egos.  You stack up enormous towers, reciting the letters on the sides of each one and reviewing the sound each one makes.

You started speech therapy at the local school last week.  At first you were not amused.  In fact, the second time, you screamed and kicked as Miss Stacey took you down to the room.  But yesterday, excited to rifle through her "treasure box" at the end of your appointment, you jumped down from my arms, grabbed her hand, and never looked back.  You are becoming such a big boy:).

So the last few weeks have been rough, but I can only hope the worst is behind us.

You ate more chicken nuggets and fish sticks than usual, but I believe you will survive:).

We will all survive. 

(Except maybe the car... the estimate of damages goes up by the week!)

Every month I see you mastering more skills, and learning to help each other.  

I am so proud of the great kids you are becoming.

We love you each very, very much.

Love,

Mom