Lack of....well, just lack of.

The past two nites, when the alarm has gone off at 1 am for Dear Hubby to get up, I haven't been able to fall back to sleep even tho I still have over two hours from that point until I have to get up. My brain has been going in to overdrive. Some of the thoughts that have flooded in have been about the goofiest things. Things I don't even normally dwell on. And a lot of those songs with ear worm lyrics that play over. And over. And over. Again. Blech. All day yesterday and last nite it was a song from "Jungle Book"...the one that goes, "Ooooh, ooooh, ooooh...I wanna be like you-ooooh-ooooh" or something to that effect. It drove me crazy but every time I started in on it again -- I found myself singing it during most of my waking hours -- Cooper would grin and begin bouncing his head in rhythm with it. The child is easily amused. We also spent a lot of time marching and dancing around the dining room to "Looking for a City" by the Chuckwagon Gang but that's a whole 'nother story.

Yesterday it was like Autumn kind of crept in on cat's feet. Which reminds me of how much I love this Carl Sandburg poem:

The Fog

THE fog comes
on little cat feet.


It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

And Autumn here in the Northwest...except for a few exceptionally beautiful Indian Summer days...means the return of low gray clouds that blanket us for months. And months. And months. On end. Oh, and don't forget the rain. I took the boys for a rather quick walk yesterday because I desperately needed apple juice and coffee filters and thought for sure it was going to begin raining before we got home. Only a few random raindrops that plop-plopped down on my forehead and that was it. But I felt kind of restless and...melancholy...all day. I don't know why. Maybe it was because I saw a man entering in to a store and he could've been my father's twin. My dad's been dead for 3 1/2 years now but whenever I spot someone who looks similar to him or my mom...she's been gone 20 years...it still causes my heart to skip and is like someone thrusts a knife into my heart and gives it a good, hard twist.

I feel like it's been ages since I've written anything of substance...anything of mine on here. Well, outside of the poems I wrote about my grandsons that I gave to my son for his birthday. My brain is loaded with thoughts. My days are gone before I know it. Oh well. I know someday I'll be sitting around twiddling my thumbs as I rock away my days. But, in all honesty, I hope that's never true. As long as I have my health I hope to be busy. Time is so precious I don't want to squander it away.

And, with this rambling free fall thru my head this morning winding its way down, I'll post this and go take a shower. It's only 4:20 but my day starts soon.

I sympathize....

The other day I pushed home

a double stroller with:

2 toddlers weighing about 90 pounds total

3 boxes of those "Snuggie" blankets seen on TV

A gallon of milk

A full medium-sized grocery bag tied on the handle

3 library books

a length of 2 miles

...and I'm probably around 30 years older than

HER!

Take a gander at the back axle and wheels....

...And ME!

You are my

"And ME!"

boy,

the little one who'll never be

left

behind.

The one who

drowses in my arms

and pulls back to look at me

and says

"AmMa"

as if to make sure

I'm still there.

Oh, baby boy...

yes I am.

I

am.

In millions of moments.

Suffice it to say

you are not number

Two.

Suffice it to say

you are there tucked away

in recesses of

my heart that are carved out

only for

you.

You are the one

who'll suddenly stop in your travels

and sing as you go

around in circles in a

sunbeam.

You are the one

who says "yes"

with your

entire being.

You are the one

who followed once but only

once.

You will never

take a back seat to

anyone.

Dylan's Eyes

Oh,

what deep thoughts

are sheltered

there.

Such exquisite beauty.

I see my mother

in them

on certain days.

I see strength and wisdom

beyond

your age.

Somehow the love you have

for your brother

melts them

whenever you bend down

and kiss him

awake.

They are as clear

as a sun-dappled river

on an early

Spring

day.

They sometimes stare

at me

in private

contemplation.

They are the reflection of

your soul

and I plumb their depths

as I listen to their

conversation.

So we never forget.....

Please take a moment and go here. This is a blog project to pay tribute to the victims of 9/11.

One thing I told myself I was going to do this week was to go thru the grandboys' toy bins and purge out all the ones they no longer play with. As I sat on the floor doing exactly that this afternoon I was amazed at how many of them the boys have already outgrown. With having an older brother to hero worship and tag after, Cooper pretty much bypassed playing with infant toys, outside of a plush bear rattle and a plush elephant with ears that crackled every time he'd rubbed on them. The many little figurines, Disney toys, and cloth books that Dylan had played with have been ignored. I kept a few stuffed toys but, beyond those, what I kept were the trucks and cars, the 'big digs' and numerous fire engines, the garbage truck, hard hats, tools, and Fisher Price buildings the boys seem to prefer over everything else. I do have a basket tucked under the table their gas station sits on, still filled with all the WWF wrestling figurines their dad loved to play with when he was a boy. It remains to be seen if they'll like those, too. Since my son and daughter loved being read to and loved listening to music a lot of the time I thought for sure Dylan and Cooper would too but, outside of a blue grass CD that Dear Hubby has with the song "Looking for a City" on it that the boys love to listen to over...and over...and over again...and march around the living room and dining room while they're listening to it...neither one seems to be much interested in books or music. My loss, since I adored reading to my kids and enjoyed their music albums and cassette tapes as much as they did. Oh well...they're only 17 months and 3 1/2 so maybe there's still hope yet.

So now I have two big garbage bags all tied up and out on the front porch, ready to go to the Goodwill tomorrow.

Shakespeare really knew what he was saying when he wrote, "Parting is such sweet sorrow!"

It's goodbye to just another little phase of their babyhood...but it's gone now forever.

Arggghhhhhh.

It kills me.

Dear Hubby's Dream

I just got off the phone with Dear Hubby.

I called to let him know I was able to get his glasses repaired today.

As we were getting ready to hang up he called out,

"Wait a minute! I've got to tell you the dream I had last nite!"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, "What was it?"

"I dreamt I was a country western star,"

he told me,

"And guess what song I was singing?"

I told him I didn't have a clue.

And then he began laughing so hard he could hardly get it out:
"I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool!"

Oh mercy.