Moving On

This last month has been filled with travel, family, frustration, love, singing, and hiking. My little men are growing so quickly, and I fear that I am missing so much being at work all day, so much that I will never get back.

Both boys love singing. The Bee has been amusing us with encore after encore of Jingle bells, and after a month of it, it seems like it coming to an end. It was a brief respite from the tiresome ABC song. He will not let us sing with him either so we can enjoy a few rounds with him. He sticks his little hand up just inches from our lips and proclaims, "Just me, Juuust ME!"

The older boy has been entertaining us with his new ability to read some simple take home books, and his holiday poem of "Five Little Trees." His performance during his holiday play went smoothly, and he did not run off the stage to sit on his teacher's lap like he did last year. The mouse did not dutifully perform his part in last year's The Nutcracker.

As both boys get older, they seem to be enjoying each others company more and more. Meaning: they play for longer periods of times without screaming or getting in all out fights. Though the older boy does not know his limits, and has been know to use his baby brother as a stunt prop and punching bag. In the last two weeks, both of the Bee's eyes have endured some type of injury because of this. One episode involved the older boy attempting to use the top of the couch as a jumping off point, placing his brother as an obstacle, and instead landing on one of the Bee's eyes. The Bee who is very obedient, and thinks watching his brother jump over him from great heights to be very entertaining never learns NOT to listen to his older brother's crazy requests. I fear for his life, and hope that the Bee can survive his big brother.

Now if you think we are negligent, don't. Most of these incident happen with us present in the room. The older boy is smooth and quick, and he can turn from angel to hell-raiser in a matter of seconds fooling his parents into thinking he is doing nothing more than providing some brotherly love. Things can turn ugly with a blink of an eye, and that applies to both my boys behavior and life.

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Most of my life I have been without a home. Going from borrowed home to borrowed home to borrowed shack, or whatever the case may be. I have slept in borrowed cars briefly as well. There has been an intense need all my life to be in my own home. To be in a home that belongs to no one but me and the banks, because really they are the ones who own our houses, although I would be content with the illusion of it all.

I currently own a home I do not live in. That someone else is borrowing. That someone else is living in and temporarily calling home. I myself, am in another borrowed home too far to live in the home that is mine. I am feeling an intense need to settle, to nest, to be done with all the moving. Something so within my reach but so unattainable as well.