Friday, April 04, 2008


I love ketchup.

Always have. Not as much as I used to, of course. Seems to be that way with kids, doesn't it? Ketchup on everything, and I was no different.

My kids carry on that grand tradition. That, and other strange things they seem to have picked up from me from osmosis, maybe?

For instance, my husband is appalled that my children like Parmesan cheese. And not as a condiment. They like to have a small pile of it on their plates to eat--like a sort of cheesy Pixie Stick dust. I reminded him that well, it is cheese. He's not completely satisfied with that answer, but he's acquiesced, some. They can have a little bit. Not a bowl of it. He also allows them to eat breakfast for dinner, now. He's come a long way.

But--back to ketchup. Or however you want to spell it. It also is one of those words I like to use when I need to catch people up on current events.

Hmm. Let's see. Eleri had her tonsils and adenoids out and had tubes put in her ears. She was having problems hearing, I noticed. And other, little things that caused me to think that all was not well with her health. Her voice sounded thick. She was missing social cues. She would vanish into her own world. Her moods started swinging wildly. And I'm not ready for a four-year-old to hit puberty, just yet. If ever. So--after seeing a specialist who confirmed that I'm not a mom with an overactive imagination or a desire to have my kids undergo unnecessary medical procedures, she had the surgery last week. So far, she's been a brave little girl. However, I was hoping that more attitude would have been removed along with the tonsils, honestly.

She's been enjoying her recuperation, though. She's gotten Get Well gifts and of course, lots of ice cream and Popsicles.

Ethan is always well, Ethan. Sunny and happy and thoughtful and just a bit odd, but in a good way. A silly, funny way. And he's not quite given up his lullaby every night. He hasn't outgrown turning around in the middle of the schoolyard when he's dropped off and yelling, "Mom! I love you!!" before joining his friends. I love how he embraces everything so fully.

And Emmory. My Bitty-boo. Where has my little baby gone? She's the typical baby of the family, though. Spoiled by everyone. The goofball, the clown. And I want to laugh when she gets angry with me because she glowers at me and stomps her foot.

There are times that I am glad that my children are as old as they are, even as I long to feel another child growing inside me, again. I loved that feeling. But I love watching my children grow and change and test themselves with new talents, new skills, every day.

Bittersweet, it is. That stab of pain mixed with such pleasure that the meaning of the word transcends the word, itself.

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