summerin'

The kids caught tiny baby toads last week, they are smaller than crickets! We have a really cute tank set up, and soon we’ll release them in my sister’s yard by her pond. The children will make little toad houses to place in the shady spots between the trees where the ferns and things grow.
It’s such a busy summer here. Connor is 9 and his body begs him to keep moving. He rushes from pool to scooter, to rope swing to bike, he races and climbs. Skye turns 8 this month. She has always been “old” preferring to chat with adults while her toys collected dust. Its her nature to be helpful though and she’s very nurturing, so this summer she plays more simply because the little boys want her too. Trew is 4, he thinks he can do everything Connor can. He wants all the attention and babying the littler kids get. He’s caught between little kid and big kid, he’s dramatic about everything. He’s testing his limits- and ours as well, how high can he climb in that tree? How high will we let him go? If he scrapes his knee how loudly can he wail before we nag at him to calm down instead of scoop him up and kiss him? I love to watch him test himself though, at that age the kids kind of find out who they are. Lochlan charges around like a tank. He’s full of purpose and built so, sturdy ;) that you expect that “bull in a china shop” experience, he is surprisingly sure-footed and graceful though. He is testing out the swing we hang from our tree, seeing which swings he can manage and how. He makes tea in the little kitchen, and since the tea pot is real I will brew a little and cool it and put it in his pot and let him pour a little cup of tea. I always think he’ll spill it, but he doesn’t. He loves the pool. He loves the park. He’s always busy doing something. Twenty times a day he cries out “Weed Me! Weed at me!” needing someone to read to him, or “sit dare sit dare cats” for sit there, sit there, catch because he wants to roll a truck or ball to you and have you roll it back. Sweet Nola is changing and growing too. Still the warm, soft, snuggled in of new babies. Still the smell of milk-fed innocence. But wide eyed, grabbing, mouthing everything, drenched in drool. On the floor she rolls to her target and grabs hold. In the bouncy she curls her monkey toes around the hanging toys and talks to them. We laugh at her when she sings us songs. She has grown fat and ticklish, the kids adore her. She laughs at peek-a-boo games, loves the tub (the pool is often to cold for her), and has a habit of holding eye contact for a LONG unblinking time, prompting Connor to say “look Deep into my eyes” in a funny voice.
I love mothering. It makes me feel lucky, every day.