Mountains

Well. In case you’re wondering and waiting with bated breath- the bird phase has eased slightly. I’m leaning towards trying to drag it back however, because a much more terrifying interest has taken hold of my boys. “Climbing.”

 I think (no. I know) when this started. Husband Joe left a few weeks back to go on a backpacking trip to climb mountains in Colorado. As camping equipment lay strewn all over the living room, Joey and Guy sat mesmerized as Joe packed his bag. They asked him what he was going to do and he told them, “go climb mountains.” Climbing anything has always interested my boys, especially Guy, but this turn of phrase just captured Joey.  And since then, my toddlers have been practicing to ‘climb mountains.’ Joey and Guy repeatedly climb on the back of the couch. What are you doing?! I ask. “climbing mountains.” Guy says. I tell him to get off the couch. “It’s okay. We’ll be careful” is the typical reply from either child. Oh. Okay. It’s okay that you’re practicing climbing mountains on my furniture because you’ll be careful. Oh. No big deal then. As you jump off into the wall. Totally no big deal.

Husband Joe came home with pictures of his trip and the boys were fascinated by the clouds near the summits. We were at the park a few days ago and halfway up a climbing wall Guy blocked the flow of traffic to turn around and tell the other kids that his dad climbs “way high into the clouds.” He kept repeating this phrase until a preschool girl almost knocked him down as she tried to scoot past him to the landing.

On the promise of “one day, soon, when you’re bigger and have practiced, you can come climb mountains,” three year old Joey wants to ‘practice’ all the time. Mostly playgrounds. Thank goodness. But this Saturday it was raining. And we have three children. And live in a super tiny home. So of course we did the most reasonable thing. Take apart Joey’s bed to make a fort with the mattress. Which of course ended up as a climbing wall. You know. So my two and three year old can practice climbing mountains.  So they can climb way high into the clouds. I’d prefer if the mountains they may climb are always mattresses, but I'll stash that wish in the same place as 'hoping they never want to drive'.  As long as they’re with their dad (and make sure they won't fall on Ellie) it’s just fine with me. Climb away.

First Summit

Second Summit!

Another Summit!!

A month!

A month. A month? A month since I’ve blogged. And I’m honestly trying to think of what this whole month consisted of that made me too busy. I’m not really sure. It is a blur of bath time and nap time and bedtime and dinner time. Story time and play time, let’s go time, and go home time. There was a trip to the mountains and a trip to the farm, explanations about why clouds follow our car. Why the moon follows our car. Why we should not look directly at the sun. My baby girl turned one.

Guy outgrew his shoes, jeans and blankie this month. Joey grew into slamming his door, eating ice cream fast enough for an ice cream headache, and into two new pairs of pants.

We took our dog to get groomed. We tuned the guitar and taught the boys new old songs that I only seem to remember lines and not verses from. The topic of heaven came up for the first time. Joey spells his name.

The boys function on a completely different idea of time then I do.  2 year old Guy’s version of both ‘yesterday’ and ‘last time’ is “lasterday.” Joey tells me he will be big like daddy soon. “Tomorrow” He says nodding his head. A clock means nothing to them, except amusement as they sit and watch the hands turn. A digital clock is only a puzzle. A six looks like a b to them and a five looks like an s. It is surely anyone’s guess what time it is if you ask them. And it doesn’t really matter. Ask Joey what time it is and he knows for sure. “Snack time.” He will always answer. Confidently.

Instead of our time neatly in an hour glass it seems to me that our sand time has snuck into Guy’s shoe at the playground. And we get home and he takes off his socks and empties it all over our carpet. And it’s just a little bit of sand and a little bit of an afternoon. And already running, he is on to the next thing. And I hardly have time to even take notice of the day until everyone is in bed -breathing and sleeping. I tuck them in and pick up the dishes and pick up their clothes and pick up their little socks.

 But again, I am re-purposing to try and write about these times. To try and remember these days. Then line up their shoes for tomorrow.