the wind comes sweepin'

It's a cold, blustery day here in Oklahoma. There's a stripey, grey-on-grey cloud cover hanging so high in the sky that birds flying below it are as tiny as fleas. The nearly-empty tree-branches are groaning against each other as if they are being tortured by the gusty, cold wind that has rushed in to drop our temperatures from a fairly comfotable 60 to a bitter-seeming 45. And, of course, as it gets colder through the night, I have to go out in it and take the children with me.

Van, the eldest, has basketball practice tonight. DC, Tyrannosaurus and I will go perch ourselves on hard folding chairs or a rather grubby floor while he runs around and attempts to learn the basics of the sport as if through osmosis, since, goodness knows, he's too busy running and squealing to actually listen to the coaches. On Tuesday night, I had a merry laugh at his expense, watching him run laps around his half of the gym. Dear boy! There's such a rather lot of motion for so little forward progress. His elbows fly around him, and his knees don't bend, his head flops up and down like a shaken ragdoll, and his back pops from ramrod straight to a funny, humpbacked curve and back. I simply MUST make the time to take him for a few runs with me some evenings and teach him a more comfortable method of moving.

I hope Tyranno-Manz is willing to settle down for a bit tonight, so that I might get another chance to read a chapter or so to DC. She so loves to be read to, even though she is doing quite a good job of reading for herself, now. When pesimst is with me, I can leave the baby to him for awhile and sneak in at least a few pages. It's vastly satisfying! I sometimes jealously miss the days of just DC and I, when we had hours to fill with nothing but one another. She was the best friend I ever had, from the very minute she was born, and I sometimes feel that closeness has been banged around by all the changes and the addition of two siblings with whom she must share my attention. That said, I'm also convinced she wouldn't trade her brothers for the crown and adoration of the entire Universe. The three are best friends, and I don't believe they would long survive without each other.

I think I see a sleeping babe, curled into the corner of his playpen. I've taken him out to let him run and play, but he keeps tossing a toy into it and trying to climb back in. So, I've let him roll around on its soft, cozy floor while I've worked the afternoon away. I was never a fan of the pen when DC was a baby, but she did prefer to spend every moment attached to my hip. Tyrannosaurus is content to play quietly where he can see me, and then burn his energy off chasing the big two when they return from school. I first put him in it one afternoon to keep him safe in the garage room while I began to get it put in order as play space (it's still not done, but it has a setback every time I clear out one of the other rooms. When the rest of the house is done, it'll be doable). He LOVED it. It became his very own space, where no one but the cats could follow him. He naps in it during the day and goes into it at bedtime (and is taken to his bed beside mine at my bedtime). When he's too tired to cope, he'll tearily grasp the edge and say sadly "halp!" And I lift him in with a toy or book and his blanket. He'll reach up to give me a hug and a kiss, and then settle down against the mesh to relax. Eventually, he flops over and pulls his blanket across his belly or tucks onto his belly with his diapered bum in the air. And then he sleeps and dreams, and all is right with his world.

And now, after a ridiculously long, rambling post, I'm going to carry myself back in to do some dishes and begin a healthy, filling supper for my "little athlete" and my professional observers. May you all be warm tonight and full inside of the quiet joys of home and family, whether your family consists of two-legged creatures or four or a delightful combination of both.