So, here's what we have been up to.
We moved this summer. Four times. From Miami to Weed Eden Farm to a little house in Clintonville that turned out to have mold and water issues, so back to the farm and then back to Miami again. It looks crazy when you read it and it truly was nuts. But the kids are happy in their new little townhouse (with a YARD, y'all! It's small and covered in brick pavers and has a view of six of our closest neighbors bathroom windows, but hey, it sure beats an ash-covered balcony) and happy to be back with their friends at Christina M. Eve Elementary and adjusting to the new normal. Which was supposed to include a lot less yelling and fighting, given the fact that mommy and daddy are now divorced, and it IS a lot more peaceful than it was before, but mama is carrying a financial and emotional and physical burden that sometimes feels like too much to bear. I want my kids to know this, Blog, because sometimes I cry, and sometimes I yell, and sometimes I do both of those things at once. And, Blog, they must think I'm crazy.
But Blog, do I love them. Do I ever love them. And that's all that matters. We are doing things as a new family unit, and although things are kind of noisy, we have a lot of fun, too. Here's what's new:
- Fart jokes. A lot of them. They boys have bonded over anything toot-or poop related. It took them approximately .05 seconds to figure out that Alexa plays a song called "poop" and they run around the house yelling, "ALESKA!" (that's how Roman says it, and she has learned to respond to it too), "PLAY THE POOP SONG!" and then they all run around making fart sounds and thinking they are the most hilarious thing since the Three Stooges.
- Roman no longer pronounces elephants as "Apadoos" but for several months he asked to go see the apadoo at the "zoom" and it was the cutest thing ever. And someday I want to remind him how cute he used to pronounce things, even if it's only to get him to stop yelling at me that I won't let him stay out past curfew and I am the worst mom ever.
- Anika facetimes with her friends and closes her door and lies on her floor like a teenager or something. It's killing me. But half the time she's showing Sarah a video of how she set up her Littlest Pet Shop House or a video of her brothers pretending to poop on each other's faces, so maybe we're not into the teen years yet.
- Every night, when he's falling asleep, Roman takes my hand, rests his head on the pillow, and softly says, "I wuv you waaaaary much, mama." Oh, my heart.
- Questions. Oh, the questions. I cannot even remember most of them because they are so out there, or so amazingly complex and imaginative that my boring conditioned adult brain doesn't have the capacity to remember them. Off the top of my head, a few I've heard over the past few weeks, usually while driving in the car where I am google-less and have to wing it:
--What are stars made of? What's the first planet that we discovered? How did we know it was there? What's your favorite planet?
--What was the biggest earthquake ever? How many people live in Chile? Is the world population going up, or down? What's an animal population that is going down instead of up? Why?
-- What's inside of a tree? How come we can't see things and we need telescopes and microscopes? What animals can see things better than us?
-- Who was the first human? How did we get here?
And on and on and on. I should honestly write them down as they come in, Blog, because they are so mind-blowing. Just yesterday, we wrote our letters to Santa and, as a new tradition, left them in the tree for the Elves to carry off to the North Pole. A few days prior, in the car, they were asking me when we would put up the tree and write our letters, and then this question: "Why do some people believe that Santa isn't real?" Now, at this point, I'm pretty sure Anika knows, but she doesn't want to know - she wants to keep the magic alive. Reni still fervently believes, as you can tell by the nature of his question about Santa. And Roman chats about Santa with the bubbly stream-of-consciousness excitement that only a toddler can muster ("Santa's coming here because he has Big Thomas and he will have a zebra and the elves and Mickey and because remember mama when you said Christmas was coming and candy canes?"). True story. Anyway, my answer was about how St. Nicholas was a real person, but like Jesus he died but lives on through us loving each other and being kind and empathetic and doing thoughtful things for others. They seemed ok with the explanation, but of course then we had to discuss what does Saint mean and how do you become one and what was his life like and are there more Saints and what are their names and where did they live and what did they do and do all people believe in Saints and are they like ghosts and where are they buried and why are there so many churches.....on and on and on and on. In the car. Without google because I try not to be on my phone and navigating Miami traffic at the same time.
The best was their notes to Santa.
Reni asked for a telescope and a motor scooter. He has taped his old list (which he had to HAD to make, on his own, a few weeks ago, and which got cut up by baby brother, who has discovered he has an affinity for scissors).
Anika wants red sneakers, candy canes and a motorized scooter. And, apparently, a photo of some cute Elves.
Roman wants a BIG Thomas, a parking spot, and a superhero. And he drew coffee and Home Depot.
Thanks for listening, Blog. I've missed you, and I promise I'm going to try to come back on the regular. We are good for each other.
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