The Two at Two

See? Still sleep deprived - even on vacation.

Recently the boys had their second birthday. I can't really believe its been that long since they were born - but here we are. Still vaguely sleep deprived, but making it work!

We were vacationing in the Dominican Republic with Eugene’s family, so no big party (like the insane 60 person extravaganza last year) but I was okay with that and, honestly, I think the boys liked their birthday breakfast party just fine.

They have changed so much in recent months, that sometimes I see photos from only six months ago and I think ‘when did you look like that?’ Almost every day they have some funny new thing that they are saying or doing and it is fascinating to watch.

Max still loves him some cake.

The boys are picking up words and phrases like little sponges - Thomas moreso than Max, but I theorize that Max just likes to make sure he has a trick down pat before he trots it out for everyone. Thomas just likes to put it out there.

They are walking and running and constantly want to be outside. ‘Go Outside!’ is usually the first request of the day. They will spontaneously will start dancing or running around their playroom like crazy little monkeys.

They go through brief periods of intense obsessions with particular things. One week, Baby Einstein, the next week, a ‘Please and Thank You’ book, currently a Lego tractor that Dad sent. Unfortunately, they seem to want the same things which is fine when it is a video but not so great when it is a singular toy.

We are learning a lot about negotiating with two-year-olds. Haha.

They like to request whichever parent is NOT around, and if they see that the computer is on, they immediately start requesting ‘call Papa!’ or ‘call Beba!’ Though they frequently clam up once they get on the video call with Dad or Mom. They are weird like that.

Thomas is a cutie-patootie and a tart

Thomas will insist that he sees the moon, even on the most moonless nights, or when he is indoors. It just has to be night time and I get ‘I see the mooooooon!’ Over and over.

Max likes to wake us up in the morning by sitting in his crib singing. It’s actually quite lovely.

They cannot be trusted with crayons or play-dough. No matter how icky it tastes, those are the two things that go straight into their mouths.

So far it seems like we haven't broken them yet! But we still have time...

What Shows Up

I woke up early this morning, before the alarm, writing already. There was nothing to do but go to the computer and start, and when I had to leave for work, the sentences were still coming so I typed a paragraph and a half into my phone while I stood in line at the coffee shop.

I don't know what I'm writing. It isn't fiction, and there's no such thing as writing the truth. For me, writing is what sometimes creates the truth as I know it, and this feels like one of those times. Something is catching up to me, and on the drive to work I found myself crying and relieved to be crying, and I know what it's about but I can't tell you without telling you more than a day's worth of words. Instead, I'll tell you a few other things I'm remembering at the same time, and believe me, I'll keep working on the other thing.

I love this world and what is in it. I love what color is, and tasting things, and walking and time. I could write you a list every day of things I loved that day, and all the places where things were beautiful, and the longer I stay in one place, the more I find to love there. I used to keep lists on Facebook, in the notes section, Ten Things I Loved Today. This weekend it would have been easy, I could have told you I loved so many obvious things, like the bracelet my sister gave me when I turned 30, which I've worn every day since, or donkeys, or telling someone about one of my tattoos for the first time, or people who make pies, or friends who accept help, or the sound of 47 people all making the same song at the same time, or grey days in the Skagit Valley.

I'm keeping track of all of those lists of love, even as I write this long thing about the things that make me most sad in the world, and about the hardest part of writing. I'm thinking about the people who keep us together, and how they do that, and why, and I'm trying my best to be one myself.

So Many Kinds of Sunshine

It wasn't the kind of weekend you write about. Everything felt like something close, something private, and quiet. Nascent. Home mostly, the Olympics, a new houseplant, blankets on the couch, a certain kind of housewarming consisting mostly of using dishes, then cleaning them, getting ready to do it again. Everything felt made for sustenance, for comfort and connection. It was like putting down roots in a place I always meant to live. It worked. Things took hold, and I felt so attached, and fed. I have so much. In bed one night, I couldn't sleep from the thought of all of it. I lay there thinking about what it was like. A heart filled with helium and feathers, sparkling.