I hate looking at our blog and realizing I haven't written anything in weeks. It makes me feel guilty because this is somewhat like a family journal and the lack of writing suggests that I have no desire to document what is going on in our lives. I wait for events- birthdays, gerbil killings, etc. to offer our friends and family a peek into our lives. When family visits or we make the rare trips to their homes they always comment on how much the kids have changed. I guess for us it's like the frog it the pot- they change so gradually that we didn't even realize how we got to where we are.
Aaron outgrew his shoes at a record pace- before they had even worn out. Normally this wouldn't bother me, but this time I had to buy him a men's size 8, only three sizes smaller than his dad's. They are considerably bigger than my own.
It was disgusting.
I remember a woman in our ward in Hobbs telling me before Aaron was born that I should write down everything about the day he was born- the little looks, what I was thinking, his smell- and commit it all to memory. I didn't write it on paper, yet. I did commit it to memory though. Aaron had this perfectly shaped, velvety blond head. Every mother knows her baby's cry and smell. They've even done studies on it. I used to nuzzle his head and breathe in the smell of him. It was the first time in life I had felt that unconditional love of a child. I will never forget it.
The other day he came home from school with a pamphlet entitled, "Always Changing: You and Puberty". Gag. Are they serious? Little Aaron? Along with the pamphlet there were gifts! A toothbrush and deodorant. Laugh if you will, but they must be clairvoyant. How did they know his hair had gone from that velvety to greasy overnight? Not to mention there is this odd smell coming off of him like a junior high wrestling mat! Thank you pamphlet gods who have come in my time of need to rescue my baby from the throes of teenage weirdness!
This is how I document our lives. In the little bubbles that rise from the bottom of the boiling pot- little moments I take notice of the change in the water. I hope I can write something more interesting in my next blog post for once, I don't think I can stomach another gerbil incident though!
Aaron outgrew his shoes at a record pace- before they had even worn out. Normally this wouldn't bother me, but this time I had to buy him a men's size 8, only three sizes smaller than his dad's. They are considerably bigger than my own.
It was disgusting.
I remember a woman in our ward in Hobbs telling me before Aaron was born that I should write down everything about the day he was born- the little looks, what I was thinking, his smell- and commit it all to memory. I didn't write it on paper, yet. I did commit it to memory though. Aaron had this perfectly shaped, velvety blond head. Every mother knows her baby's cry and smell. They've even done studies on it. I used to nuzzle his head and breathe in the smell of him. It was the first time in life I had felt that unconditional love of a child. I will never forget it.
The other day he came home from school with a pamphlet entitled, "Always Changing: You and Puberty". Gag. Are they serious? Little Aaron? Along with the pamphlet there were gifts! A toothbrush and deodorant. Laugh if you will, but they must be clairvoyant. How did they know his hair had gone from that velvety to greasy overnight? Not to mention there is this odd smell coming off of him like a junior high wrestling mat! Thank you pamphlet gods who have come in my time of need to rescue my baby from the throes of teenage weirdness!
This is how I document our lives. In the little bubbles that rise from the bottom of the boiling pot- little moments I take notice of the change in the water. I hope I can write something more interesting in my next blog post for once, I don't think I can stomach another gerbil incident though!
