Miscellany

Those giant "catching up" blog posts are fine and everything, but fail to capture the essence of our everyday life with Walter and Sally.  It's the short, random posts that do the best job of actually documenting our life, I think.

For example ...

• Walter is currently obsessed with one particular pair of neon purple socks. Every morning he asks for them.  "Purple socks?" We then have to negotiate with him, offering other options, because his purple socks haven't quite made it through the laundry cycle yet. It says a lot about me that my solution to this problem is not to make an extra effort regarding laundry, but to think about ways I might procure more purple socks.
• I was reading old blog posts, and seeing several references to Paul Simon's "African Skies" reminded me that the "Ta Oomba Oomba" part still works.  It's pretty magical.  Most recently I busted it out in post-op, while the nurse was trying to get through our post-op instructions and Walter was screaming over her, trying to get down and run away. I hugged him to me and sang it quietly in his ear: "ta oomba oomba oomba whoa-oh-oh." He immediately stopped screaming.  He put out his lower lip to let me know he was still sad, but he stopped struggling and leaned into my hug. He remembers it from when he was a newborn, I am certain of it. It's in his veins, just like the song says. 
• Yesterday was really, really hot.  When Walter got home from day care, he asked us a couple of times to arrange for some rain to fall.  The best was: "Dada! Rain, please." I'm guessing one of his teachers gave him the idea (Walter has been saying "Too hot" these past few days, and I'm thinking his teachers told him that yes, it was too hot, but it would get better soon after it rains.) It rained this morning, and Walter seemed please, but also kind of like, "Well, of course it rained.  I asked for it."  There's a sermon in there about prayer, I'm sure.
• This probably deserves it's own long blog post, but I'm too emotionally confused about it right now to write at length: Sally's c-section is scheduled for Wednesday, August 21, at 7:00 am (check in at 5:30 am ... now that's a good surgery time.) Like I said, I need to sort out some of my thoughts and feelings about this one. My main thought at the moment is that we should probably not just assume that the 21st will be her arrival date: the hospital bag still needs to be packed and ready to go. My other thought at this very moment is that Sally's movements are the nicest thing in the world on this quiet Sabbath morning ... very gentle, but persistent (and, as I typed this, maybe slightly less gentle around the area of my ribs.)
• Today, in addition to Sally/Mama time, I'm also expecting the delivery of a hospital bed.  We were able to borrow one last time but that bed is in use by its owner, so Dr. M. ordered one for me to help with the current acid reflux and the post-surgical recovery to come.  I'm hoping it helps with my sleep, which has been pretty bad lately.  

Having said that, I'm going to try for a little sleep right now.  I know most of my posts lately have ended that way, but I'm too tired to think of something more creative.  And as far as documenting our real lives go, Mama's constant quest for sleep is a pretty real thing to depict. 

Odds and Ends

It's Friday, my Sabbath day, and I've spent most of it in bed.  Hank has been my constant companion.  He stood by the bed and gently reminded me that it was time to wake up this morning.  He slept in his bed at the foot of my bed, woke up with me and accompanied me downstairs for lunch, then back upstairs.  I just apologized to him for disturbing him when I got up to go to the bathroom.  Now that it's past 4pm, he's dividing his time between the top of the bedroom stairs and the living room to keep an eye on me and be close to the door for when Sean and Walter get home.  If they arrive any later than 5pm, he'll take up a post by the front door to wait for them more intently.

The receptionist at our vet's office observed yesterday that Hank is a "very family oriented dog." It's true.  I worry about how much he worries about us.  I feel terrible for his prematurely white muzzle, which developed during the last weeks of my pregnancy and first weeks of Walter's arrival. But I am thankful for his watchful, protective companionship, for his ministry of warm, furry presence.

This morning Walter delighted in bringing Hank his collar, and later his leash to get him ready for his morning walk.  He greets his dog every morning with a cheerful "Hank-eeeee!"  Walter knows.  We're a lucky family.

***

Walter woke up this morning singing "Happy birthday day to you!" which is pretty neat, since it's his 16 month birthday today.  He is bright and beautiful beyond bearing, really.  I get overwhelmed at least once a day with it. This morning he also sang, "A, B, C ..." when he usually just says "A, B" and stops there.  We were overjoyed and clapped and praised him.  He was pleased but very embarrassed, tucking his chin down to his chest to hide his secret smile, turning around and heading right out the door of his room.  The bashfulness ... where does it come from? Will it continue?  Does he secretly know how to sing the entire alphabet already?  I suspect he does.

These days Walter loves: his bath crayons ("colors!"), anything Jim Henson, especially Elmo (we may have had some influence, here, but he's taken to it like bath crayons to our tub,) crackers and cookies (sometimes foods, Walter, these are sometimes foods,) broccoli (gotta balance out the crackers,) being sung to and listening to music and, more and more, chiming in with the songs.  He is perfecting the dramatic heavy sigh of frustration and disappointment.  He occasionally makes wookiee noises when he's really upset.  I don't laugh at him when he does this, but I do tuck my chin down and smile a little bit.