Nine

Nine years old. Obviously, one bundle of a couple hundred days before double digits. And halfway to 18. And more than halfway to driving. And nearly ten years since I was pregnant with them. Nine years ago I had just come home from the hospital and was overwhelmed with two adorable little burrito bundles of screaming joy. One 4.5 pound loaf of bread of a guy, and one 5.5 pound jaundiced "Moose" who seemed so enormous next to his tiny brother. No preemie clothes. Just big, long onesies, my favorite two at the time being the rather small-sized newborn Babar onesies from France. Even newborn socks just hung off their feet like huge shoes. Now they're still tiny little things, but nonetheless tall enough to go on roller coasters, outgrowing their pants from last year.

Tonight was the smallish birthday party we had. Three families and one friend from down the street who is probably moving back to Connecticut. It was just enough and no more. We had a dual almost theme of Harry Potter and gnomes. I made a Voldemort pinata that I never did get a picture of before it was smashed to pieces with a baseball bat, and we had wizard hat cupcakes and a gnome party cake. Somehow, between cleaning and decorating cakes. it took me all day to prepare. I need a break now!

Walter is at Lego Machines and Robots camp in the mornings this week and geology camp in the afternoons. I don't hear much about what he does while he is there. It is at the Mathematics and Science Center, which is operated by a consortium of school districts in the area and takes place in an actual school. It's a cell-block sort of school with five wings, labeled A-E, and there are no interior doors--everything opens to the outside. Walter especially enjoys going to the bathrooms, lunchtime, the vending machines in the cafeteria, and fire drills. Sounds like school to me! For me, having him ready to go in the morning and with a lunch and two snacks packed is a lesson in how much of a challenge it would be to do this every day for most of the year. I have resorted to tiny bagged snacks so that there is minimal prep for me.

As I've noted in the past, he is very open to learning in a new environment. The first day he came home talking about metamorphic rocks, where at home he often is paying so little attention that he doesn't even know what continent he lives on. But then again, I really hear much, much more about who is working with whom, what mistakes other people made in their projects, the very exciting bathroom, and what other people had for lunch.

My summer started out looking so blank, so boring. Now here it is August already, and I feel like I've been continuously busy. We've gone nowhere--I mean, I've gone to the beach twice for a few hours and then come home, and we've been to Busch Gardens about 10 times, but other than that, no trips, no overnights, no vacations. I've spent every single night in my own bed. It's kind of interesting, and yet making me feel rather itchy to travel somewhere, anywhere. We do have a two day trip to Philadelphia planned for the second week of September, and then later that week we are going to South Carolina for five days for a family reunion (although except for my Dad, I've barely ever met anyone else who will be there), so there is something to look forward to. I guess I'm just looking for a break from the relentlessness of the daily life-with-a-toddler, which is so draining. I have been wondering, am I just coping especially poorly, but I've realized that this is the longest extended period, at least for quite a long time, when I've been the sole person in charge of just about everything having to do with keeping life going with all four kids. No relief when I have an appointment of some kind, an outing that isn't compatible with Rutledge, or need to run an errand that is going to be ten times harder and longer if I have to take everyone. I think the cumulative total of all of these things is wearing me out. I'm finding that I have to sit down some, especially after 5, and I kind of hit a wall more days than I used to. With more opportunities for a break, especially a break that allows me to accomplish something other than playing tennis, I'd probably be a little more patient with everyone and have a little more energy in general. But it looks like I'm just going to have to buck up and embrace the new reality and realize that Rutledge won't be this age forever and that the others certainly can't go on crying or screeching for hours. I'm going to have to figure out some way to stamp out the unattractive behaviors so that we can all coexist more peacefully.

We have listened to some good books in the car this week while spending so much time going to Mechanicsville to camp. We finished Wolf Brother, listened to Bridge to Terabithia, then another book about a dog by the same author, the 21 Balloons, and Anastasia Krupnik, which I found to be a very perceptive little book about children around the age of mine. It was quite a pleasant listen. Now we are listening to Tuck Everlasting, and I'm not sure how long this is going to last for us. Ollie didn't seem too into it, but we've only listened to about 1/3 of the first tape. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we're not getting any further along in Harry Potter. And here I am writing here instead of reading there. At this rate, I'll never be done. Oh well.