Mortality & Also Some Pictures.
For some reason I started reading The Fault in Our Stars tonight.
I’ve been avoiding it, and I clicked on it, and got I got sucked in.
No. No. No.
Why do I do this to myself? I can already see where this is heading and I don’t want to go there.
It reminds me of middle school, and maybe high school, when I would read those Lurlene McDaniel books about teenagers who die of cancer.
Raise your hand if you had some kind of sad obsession with reading those YA novels.
At the time I thought it was just me, I was the only weird kid who read them. As it turns out they were fairly popular. I guess no one discussed them.
Hey, did you read McDaniel’s latest book about the girl who died slowly of cancer?Real thriller, that one!
Reading those stories is sort of like ripping a bandaid off very slowly just to feel the pain.
I’ve found after having children that my Mama Heart just cannot stand to imagine watching my babies slowly die. Of course I know well and good that many mamas do have to watch their babies suffer through terrible illnesses. I just…
Oh God, why?
Shut up brain. Shut up!
I am fairly certain dying of cancer is worse than a ten day Ebola suffering and bloody death.
I’m going to stop rating ways of death before this goes any further. I need to classify enterovirus d68 on my Worst Ways My Babies Can Die Scale, but…
Never mind, never mind.
Here, look at these pictures of my kids not suffering and dying:
Henry has bags under his eyes. He doesn’t sleep well, so I have bags under my eyes too. But I don’t think our eye bags are caused by cancer, ebola, or enterovirus d68…so there’s that.
Here’s that same scene, just backed up a little to get the full picture. His first time painting. (It was washable, non-toxic tempera paint: fear not.)
Upon being told he could not eat all of the paints:
I shall smack your camera lens with my painty fingers! Not!
Bless his heart, all of his chins had paint on them.
This was later that day.
My children are so special.
I washed off most of the paint, so he moved on to dirt. And he wants you all to know he is innocent and sweet. Totally.
Speaking of totally innocent and sweet!
This was the next day, Saturday. We went to the pumpkin patch a couple minutes from our house. We’d never been to this one before since we just moved up here in February.
By the way, we all blinked and now Rosie is 17 years old…!??
Henry loved it. It was crowded and he loves strangers. Weird child. He also loves to be outside, no matter the weather.
Unfortunately the weather was drizzling and light rain suddenly, which meant we didn’t do all of the pumpkin patch activities. We only stayed long enough to eat and leave. We have to go back when it’s sunny.
So I have managed to teach the boy not to rip the blooms off of flowers, but he still loves to smack them and watch the blooms fly off. I give up. You can try to take the boy out of the son, but you can’t really take the..I don’t know what I’m trying to say. The kid likes to destroy flowers, ok?
I should really frame this one. Immediately.
I think Ada’s face is melting.
I’m having trouble training this one to look at the camera and smile for pictures.
The one in which shaking a corn stalk above my head does not make them look at the camera and smile.
But hey, they are all looking in the same direction. That counts. RIGHT?