Harvey, from cat 4 to cat 1 moving away.

What a wild ride.

First the waiting. And then long, loud night. The children slept, were unimpressed by it all. The adults were wary but managed to close our eyes, too.

Husband is getting ready to walk the neighborhood, help pin up the neighbor’s fence. I am preparing breakfast for the children. There is a water boil advisory, of course, but we are well stocked with water and the office will supply us with more.

We are safe right now. We see limbs down and fences that need mending and neighbors moving about already. We have support. We can support the people around us. We are fortunate.

Harvey, from cat 4 to cat 1 moving away.

Nighttime in Texas

We are back from Oregon where we buried my Grandma Honey. We saw more family than we ever see at a time and Mommy ate more than her share of ice cream. When in Oregon.

Today we went to our friend’s third birthday party where we pigged out on sweets and overwhelmed you boys with people and toys. We brought him presents that he already has, but I don’t think he’ll mind. We played in a plastic swimming pool and with squirt guns and water balloons, enjoyed a bounce house (not you yet, C) and cracked a piñata (you were so gentle with it, D).

C, you cried and cried after you had to put your toy away for bath. Baby, batteries can’t go in the tub. You felt better after mommy hugs and clean pajamas. You listened to a story cover to cover (unusual for you – it was Mommy Hugs by Karen Katz) and then played peek with the second book. We turned out the lights and you nursed to sleep in my arms. 

D, you told me over and over that you love me. In the morning, afternoon, evening, underneath the moon. On cars, buses, planes, and boats. Even when we fight. You have been doing this lately, starting while we were in Oregon. Your eyes are closed and you are only half awake, but you say things like, “You’re a good lady, Mommy” and “You’re a nice girl, but you can be bad if you want to be bad.” In Oregon, you told me I’m a big rig, you’re a big rig, and C’s a big and that you really missed the really big big rig (Daddy). The third night escapes me now, but it included your chicken coop/coupe joke.

C, you are going to walk all day soon. You are brave. You can go hang out with all sorts of people for awhile…until you spot me again and then it’s Mommy time and I am so proud to scoop you up, you adventurous brute! Your heart is sweet and you lay down or cuddle up for snuggles even though you’ve just awoken from your nap. Your touches are softer and your smiles are bigger and your pats are so comforting. You are such a light.

D, you are such a good helper. You feed your little brother and keep him safe, read to U and mostly show her patience when she whacks. You let baby J wrestle you, make baby D smile by smiling and talking at him, and tried to stir up JR. You are kind to Piper and Susie and your animals at home. You like doing chores and forget about the sticker chart, even when you earn a chore sticker. You are such a good helper.

Boys, I am so thankful we are our family. I love you.

Nighttime in Texas