Little (Dirty) Loves

These are my kids on Mother's Day.

Oh man. I love them something terrible. Like, rip my own heart out of my chest and let them walk around squeezing it and using it like a kick ball. That's how much. Sometimes, when I see them, they take my breath away. 

And then, sometimes, when I see them, they're standing in the middle of an incredible mess, they've broken 43 rules, and attempted to maim one another. Then I wonder what went through my tiny, pea brain when I concocted this idea of being a mom.

But mostly they take my breath away.

The oldest one just moved up to a level G today in his reading. That's getting pretty close to a second grade reading level. He also swims now. He can do a 25 freestyle and a 25 backstroke. I joked with his dad the other day that his backstroke looks better than mine. While not entirely true, it isn't far from it. In my defense, I'm a terrible backstroker. (I'm not actually sure that's a defense but I'll take what I can get.) He's a pretty great kid.

But, of course, he thinks passing gas is gut busting hilarious, he finds dirt and mud every which place and insists on wearing it, and, yesterday, at Matthew's field trip, declared to all the other moms in a very loud voice, "MY MOTHER IS SO WEIRD." So, I mean, in case you were starting to think it was all great all the time, well, it isn't. Apparently they only make it to six before you start to humiliate them by your mere existence.

Speaking of finding mud every which place and insisting on wearing it...

Just...

This...

One day, the boys were playing together in the backyard. We were inside. This is what we found. I don't know little girls who would do this. I'm sure they exist but generally aren't they all about painted nails and tea parties? Not, like, rolling around in a mud puddle like a little piggy? 

In other news, this kid read several two letter words yesterday. I had no idea he had it in him. I was pretty floored. He also appeared to be the social glue that was holding his preschool class together on their field trip. You might have been able to knock me clean over with a feather. As he saw all of the other kids in their matching shirts he went running up, waving frantically, "Hi Ehwa! Hi! Hi Emawee! Hi Beckett! Hi Ehwee! Hi you! Hehwo!"

What an incredible difference nine months makes.