Belated birthday

On January 29, my older brother would have turned 32. It's been 18 and a half years since he passed away. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him. I used to pray every night that I would never forget him. I never will. Even so, it's important for me to look at pictures of him to prove to myself that he existed, and that my memories aren't half-forgotten dreams.

This pic shows 3 of us kids out of 5: Daniel, me, and G.

Paul and Preschool

D. had been wanting a sleeping bag for a while. So a week ago I surprised her by telling her that we were going to Walmart to buy a sleeping bag (so that she could spend that night out in the living room with I. and friend for I.'s b-day fun). D. immediately gasped and smiled, and in an animated way asked, "Can I have a red one with Paul McCartney on it?!" I don't think I've ever seen that kind before, and I told her just that.


Yesterday, I did my own preschool with D.. She seemed to enjoy it. We had some much needed time together, and I was able to find out that she knows more than what I was aware of. What a relief. This taught me that whether or not she continues preschool in the Green Room, I need to be more personally involved with her life. Let's cross our fingers that Sunbeams will get better for her (that's the class she's in at church).

Disappearing Act

Yesterday I was at the computer and swiveled around to check on P., who had been lying on a blanket. He wasn't there! I quickly glanced around and saw that he was at my feet, completely off the blanket. I just feel grateful that I didn't scooch the chair, because the wheels would've hurt him. It's hard to remember to look around first, and I did the same thing again last night.

I feel like I'm looking at the back of his head more often, and not just because I hold him facing out. When he's in the swing, I'll check on him and all I can see is the back of his head. He gets almost completely turned around trying to get out. I noticed the same thing when he's in the car seat. Lately he doesn't even want to go in the swing at all. He'll arch his back so severely that I can't close the swing top, and he grabs at the sides trying to throw himself out. He actually does this all fairly quietly. He really is not a noisy baby. The plus side of all of this is that I'll be getting rid of the swing soon. YAY! That's one less huge thing to have in our apartment, and one less thing to store.

One thing I forgot to mention about P. is that when he cries he sounds like a squeaky toy. It's so cute (and sad, all at the same time). A few people have noticed this as well--one commenting on the fact that he sounds like a rubber duck.