what i’m busy with:

Last night, I left the house topsy turvy and went to bed. Sweet Fiona needed me from 7pm on. Period. There would be no Little People pick up, no dish washing, no bed making, no way. Just a baby who needed her mama. Dishes can be done later. Babies don’t wait. And they don’t last, either.

This morning, I woke up early, excited about a no-rain forecast. I started laundry, did some of those dishes, put on my sneakers — and no sooner had I stepped out the door to begin my much-anticipated walk than I got a text. “Are you still home? Fiona’s awake.” Awake, hungry, needing no one but me.

And now I’m watching the sun rise and the dew sparkle from my couch, instead of from North Street. I hear children playing instead of birds chirping. And a sweet babe, belly filled and warm, is curled up on my chest, asleep.

This is the season of Fiona. Precious, fleeting, never to be repeated.

Not to be traded for all the walks in the world.

them

And while she grows and sleeps and wins our hearts…

the others have begun the grand adventure of another school year!

We jumped back into our routine of chores and such on Monday, just to get our souls back in shape, and then Wednesday was the Big First Day.

Jameson began second grade, and Yo. He is just Too Cool For School. At least, that’s the vibe he’ll give when you ask him about what grade he’s in.

How cute is that kid??

He loves math — again. He begins any writing assignment with gusto, and rather quickly tires of it. He’s reading SO well, which is just plain old fun for me. I love hearing him read things out loud, imagining what it must be like when suddenly the world is full of WORDS that you can READ! I don’t remember that moment in my life, but it’s been so fun to watch it happen for him. He’s proudly reading his first chapter book at rest time, and loves to report to William and me about what’s happening in the story.

He also loves Legos, so (don’t laugh) two days into our first week of school, I ditched the morning routine and let them just keep building. He came up with this tractor trailer all by himself and was proud as anything.

Then there’s our kindergartener. Is there anything as fun as a kid proudly holding up their first work book?

For two years, he’s sat at the table and done coloring, puzzles, dollar store workbooks — anything I’ve asked of him — with total enthusiasm. But to finally be doing school!

I’ve been scared silly of his left hand and teaching handwriting, but after talking to some lefties, I finally decided to just take a back seat and let him sort of find his way — and he has!

And of course, we have a new pre-schooler with us this year. She sorts pencils and crayons, does her best to instigate fights with William, and just loves being with us.

And so we’ve gathered for several mornings in a row, Fiona included, and excitedly zipped through the first hours of book work and projects and read alouds. Legos and football in the backyard and washing our hands a bit more thoroughly are all a part of their learning, but those shiny new books and freshly sharpened pencils (all done by Mama, who is still the pencil sharpening Queen around here) sure do take the cake.

When not in school, these kiddos can most often be found checking up on the Red Sox.

Or actually watching the Red Sox.

It’s fun to be a kid, Yo.

her

Nineteen days old.

The fleeting moments of eyes open are stretching into longer moments.

Skinny legs are still skinny — but sturdier. Feet less fragile. And cheeks. Cheeks smooshier every day.

Baby acne popping out on forehead and cheeks. Welcome to Earth. Things aren’t quite clean and pure here. We need Jesus.

Doted on. Poked and pinched (in love — overwhelming, smothering sibling-love.) Held. All the time. Just because. Because she’s my baby.

Curls up in just the right way next to me while we sleep. Babies just fit, don’t they?

Those hands. I just love newborn hands.

special moments

Special moments sometimes just come upon you. Sometimes you’re just nursing a baby, and suddenly, you realize that all six (six!) of you are sitting together. Mostly all cuddled as close as possible with Daddy. As quietly as little guys can be, because there’s the broadcast of Red Sox vs Yanks to listen to. The boys’ eyes shine with every good play. Little fist pumps. But mostly quiet.

For a moment, time just hovers. Dusk drops a blanket of calm, and souls are full.

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