We are...

I've kept a tally of the Bear's words. He is at 75 right now, and is also repeating almost everything we say to him. Climbing all the furniture, using a spoon and a straw, learning to put on his clothes and how to say his name. He is using the potty and as I write this, he is sleeping peacefully in his "big boy" bed.

Don't ask how it happened. I have no idea. I feel a bit wind blown, like a speeding bullet just whizzed by me and now my hair is all askew.

Cubby is in hot pursuit. Now that he is eating solids, he is packing on the weight. His thighs are huge! Today he ate a banana, 6 strawberries, a sweet potato, a few ounces of pureed spinach, blueberry compote, malanga and pureed garbanzo beans. Just before bed he ate a pear and three apricots. He is all smiles, giggles and baby talk. I love how active he is. I appreciate his sweet, gentle spirit. I think he is the most content baby I have ever seen in my life.

Then there are the rest of us. By us, I mean parents. Adults. The big people. The ones that make the food and change the diapers. The ones that give the baths and unleash the tickle monsters. Us.

We are tired. We are s t r e t c h e d thin. J began our new driveway project this week and we were rained out (thanks Tropical Depression Erica!) We are delayed by a full week now which has set the start date of our picket fence back by a few days. J looks exhausted now that his semester is in full swing and the home projects are piling up. But football season is on the horizon, and there is a gleam in his eye that looks like a Philadelphia Eagle.

I have turned into a Daytimer. Between my homeschooling/tutoring business, the boys, starting my new garden, writing my two books, the co-op and my new bible study (which starts next week), I am one busy mama! Streamlining is the key to my sanity. When the boys are napping I turn into a variation of Monica Gellar/Taz from Looney Tunes. I make homemade baby food, I mix the bread and set it to rise, I sweep and mop the floors, I run the laundry, I try to get a chapter of writing in, I make a lesson plan, I get all of the prep work done for the evening meal, I bake a treat for J, I try to keep my head from falling off....

Really, the nonstop schedule is what I need. I thrive on endless activity, as long as I get my cup of English breakfast in there somewhere.

Once in a while, if I finish before the End-of-Naptime whistle blows, I walk out onto my front porch, sit on the step and let my imagination run wild over my impending garden. Visions of Texas Sage, Blue Daze and Ruellia dance in my head. I am giddy with excitement. My own garden. I can hardly wait.

Now I can't end the family update without mentioning Frankie, our very own Diana Ross version of a West Highland Terrier. He still reigns supreme. He endures both toddler and baby like a champ. He loves his new backyard and the occasional chance for a throw down match with released imported exotic animals that wander into our yard. He says "hi."