It has taken me weeks of thinking and planning to bring myself back here. Holden learned to say Mama, Dada, Teeteetee (Sissy), sprouted 4 teeth, began imitating his Grandmother's cough and laughing like a loon. At each milestone, I thought of how I'd immortalize it, what I'd say to preserve the moment forever on the Internet. My days are filled with loads of diaper wash and hours of errands in the car, and one minute, hour and day bleeds into the next until the moment is gone, and I indulge in the wistful self-flagellation of my Baptist upbringing without ever actually doing anything to fix it.
This morning Mark let me sleep an extra hour, Holden snuggled softly against me, for once not demanding my breast in his sleep. At 8:30, I dragged myself into consciousness, and as we said goodbye to Daddy, I heard the wind howling around the house. There's a blissful chill outside today, and by blissful chill, I mean that with the wind, it might be in the low 70s out here. So I made myself a mocha, and I'm sitting on the swing, sipping the dregs and watching my sweet son, my boy-no-longer-an-infant, play in the flower garden at creating a scale model of the Desolation of Armageddon.
He touches new things with only his index finger, eyebrows furrowed and lower lip sucked into his mouth until he decides he needs the additional experience of tasting and gumming the object. I try to keep the house clean, but Saturday I swear to God I found a man's toenail clipping in his mouth.
Burgundy loves school, and a good thing, because it's her whole life right now. Her first nine weeks' grades are finalized, and she has 4 As (100, 99, 99 and 90) and 3 Bs (86, 85, and 82). She's taking six out of 7 classes at the college level; I'm very impressed with her drive.
She's learning that life is full of setbacks and people who just don't care about your story. I guess I'm learning that, too. It's so difficult to see people treating your child unfairly or even with fair disregard. In my world, she'll never be just another kid with a late paper and a good story. It's vitally important though, so when she made the decision not to extend an appeal against what I thought was an unfair penalty, I honored it.
I want more than anything to storm the front office of the school with a broomstick in one arm and a baby in the other, hair wild and reeking of baby poop and sour milk and demand that they adjust the grade. Or. Else. It's her decision though, and if I'm honest, it's probably the right one. She has to work with this teacher the rest of the year, and the teacher did not count off as much as she could have.
My house is a mess. I have about 7/8 of a warp wound for a weaving project. There's a bright, clean patch on the library rug where the dog took a dump. Mark shampooed the carpet. Just that spot. I hesitate to do more than giggle about it because if I'd had to do it, Mark eventually would have had to clean up both vomit and dog crap.
Holden pulls every object off of every surface he can reach, and I must be on constant, high alert for his ginger exploration of sundry electrical plugs with his baby index finger. So far, there has been very little oral exploration. He did manage to get enough slobber in the end of my MacBook plug that I had to buy a new one.
I volunteer with Burgundy's Class of 2013 Booster Club. We're raising funds to throw the kids the best Project Graduation party ever. As of right now, I haven't done nearly enough, but I'm working on a fundraiser next week (we're selling BBQ sandwiches at lunch), and I have several thank you notes to write on behalf of the elected board.
I have gone so far as to reserve the venue for Burgundy's sweet 16. We're having a masquerade ball, and I found a banquet hall that seats 300 (no, she's not inviting even half that many) for $150 on a weeknight. Her birthday is December 18, so we're holding the ball on Monday, December 19. First day of Christmas break. I'm really looking forward to this; I think it will be awesome.
I've enjoyed writing; alas, my list of things to do is long and detailed, and I am having my hair cut in less than an hour. My son is exploring the detritus in the cracks of our sidewalk, and I really should eat something besides chocolate and milk for breakfast. Until next time (and praying that will be tomorrow).