Dearest Gus, Happy Birthday

Happiest Birthday, my sweet, wild boy.

You are so funny and generous, with a touch of seriousness..

You still say the best prayers, even though you do it less now because you say you get embarrassed.

You are such a good brother.

And chess player. 

I swear I'm going to beat you one of these days.

Earlier this week one of my high school students told me he stopped kissing his mom when he was seven. This is not the thing to tell a mama two days before her son is about to turn that fateful age. Promise me you will still rush to the door when I get home from work to get the first kiss. 

Promise that I can still tuck you in at night. 

Promise.

I know in my heart you are going to be a great man one day, 

but I'm so glad you are still my little boy for now.

Happiest 7th Birthday Augustus Kiernan. 

I am so glad you are mine.

Also---thank you so much Mama and Aunt Laurie. 

They took my boy for his yearly Toys-R-Us shopping extravaganza. 

Usually I have to work, but today I had to nurse a sick Arlo. 

Gus's Six Birthday here and here. 

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Sick Day Cuddles

I woke up to discover a sick little man who had never even cried out during the night letting me know he needed me. And the mess in his crib clearly indicated that he did, in fact, need me.

This has been a day full of laundry of the most disgusting variety and lots of cuddles with sick little boy who can't find his happiness.

Gus's birthday is tomorrow so I'm praying this isn't the sort of virus to go raging through the house, though like so many things in life, there's nothing I can do about it if it is. Just gonna have to ride this incredibly gross wave and hope for the best.

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Waiting on Breakfast

Yesterday I waited and waited and waited for my sisters to be ready to go to breakfast. I waited so long it turned to lunch and I made myself food. My sisters did not inherit my timeliness gene.

But eventually they did show up, ready to eat. And although I wasn't hungry, I was dressed and my kids were dressed and we had nothing else planned, us Weavers.  It was, after all, the fifth day of an impromptu winter break. So off we went for a noon thirty breakfast at a place no longer serving breakfast. But I drank lots of coffee anyway. And we sat and sat and sat. And as I looked around at my kids and my husband, my mom and my sisters, I realized it was worth the wait.

Sometimes I'm restless, but I know that I'm not going anywhere. Because if I went somewhere else, I wouldn't have so many people to wait on.

If you would like to join a rather elite group, one which basically only consists of people sitting at the table pictured above, you should go over to Apartment Therapy's Homie Awards and vote for this little space and all the other little spaces you love to visit. 

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Mornings Like These

Winter is hard on Gus. He loves to be outside, but he hates the cold, or so he says. It's hard to get my little wild man bundled up and out the door. But once he's out there, as long as the snow isn't sneaking in his gloves or up his pant legs, he seems happier, more at peace.

Sena doesn't complain about the cold, and she is far better at entertaining herself. She happily spends hours writing detailed instructions for sleep-overs (which are hilarious) or organizing her dolls. And the cold doesn't seem to creep into her bones like it does with Gus.

Today we bundled up earlier than usual and headed down our hill to the beach. Gus tramped across the creek and wandered along the shore, and I think for a minute he forgot how cold he was, even if his rosy cheeks and running nose told a different story.

"I like summer more. Every day is different in summer. In the winter all we do is walk to the beach"--Gus.

I decided to take Gus's complaint as a compliment. At least I'm doing something right one season of the year, I suppose.

Inspired by  the idea of capturing my favorite time of the day.

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This Weekend We- Long and Ordinary and Perfectly Nice

This weekend has been a completely, wonderfully, unexpectedly ordinary weekend, except it began on Thursday and won't end until the the point tomorrow evening where I start to remember that a high school class will be waiting for me the next day.

Two snow days on top of a holiday weekend made for a min-winter break.

And we did have big plans for the weekend. We were supposed to drive to Albany so I could meet my godson and see my friend after two years. But alas, the storm that brought us an extra long weekend prevented them from flying in. I'll have to wait two more weeks before becoming a godmother, before hugging my friend who doesn't actually like hugs all that much.

So this weekend had room for puddle exploring, more doughnut adventures, and a sling shot lesson to boot. 

The next four weekends hold all sorts of plans- two birthdays, a baptism, and bourbon tasting book club at our house. All wonderful, not-as-ordinary things. Which means, we're booked up until Spring. Spring. I was very excited when I realized that.

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