Losing My Marbles

I'm going to tell you about a dream I had last night. Because everybody loves that! (I'm saying that tongue-in-cheek, of course, having finally un-glazed my own eyes after an extremely detailed recounting I was just forced to listen to over breakfast.)

Seriously, I do realize that making you read about my dream is kind of weird, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'll keep it short.

*****
This happened, that happened, another thing happened...and then I found myself leading Max through a crowded balcony to go sit with someone I could see about halfway up. The balcony was in a church, and the church service was in progress. It was very quiet, and we were facing rows of people, and I was trying to make our entrance as discreetly as possible.

Now the thing that made this whole scenario really challenging (and dreamlike, and worthy of repeating) was that Max kept turning into a marble.

The balcony was full of pews and steps and hard, echo-y floors (not to mention all the people with their feet and purses and WATCHING EYES) and my marble just kept rolling out of reach, ricocheting, dropping loudly down the stairs, and landing in the darnedest places. I kept shuffling through areas and reaching under people's seats to retrieve my little marble, and would set it back on track, only to have it roll away once again. I didn't know why my marble wasn't following me better through that maze of balcony, but I kept trying again and again and again.

The entire incident was confusing and frustrating and embarrassing and thank goodness, I woke up.

(Don't really need a dream interpretation manual for this one, eh?)

*****
Incidentally, the photo at the top of this post is one I took a couple weeks ago after noticing the bathroom door wasn't shutting correctly.

Coincidence?

Viola.

This has absolutely nothing to do with my son or microcephaly or anything at all, really, but I just realized that I accidentally typed "viola!" instead of "voila!" back there. I couldn't help myself -- I HAD to go back and correct it.

But now I have the giggles and almost wish I had just left it alone. I mean, who couldn't use a little laugh as they randomly stumble across that typo over time, right?

I'm thinking about adopting it as my new go-to exclamation. It's clean, it's catchy, it lends itself well to dramatic pronunciation, and it works to express everything from breathless appreciation ("Ooooo, Veeeeohhhhlaaaa!") to an angry expletive ("Oh Vi-O-La!!") -- or even an insult ("They don't know VIT from VYE-OLA!")!

Viola. heh.

Spackle & Patch

I decided I really need to go back and fill in some of the cracks and holes in this blog. So, I just finished up a bit of site repair and filled in some of those neglected spots with a few old posts I'd been sitting on for no apparent reason. (I mean, other than reasons like...hitting the spellcheck button seemed too exerting, or the post had no ending, or I fell asleep instead, or something.)

But -- voila! I deemed them "complete" and posted them.

Where can you find these virtual spackle & patch editions? Just scroll back.

Or, if you prefer, use this handy dandy guide:

1. We saw chicks.
2. Siblings had issues, part seventy-two.
3. We went to the zoo.
4. Max went to another zoo.
5. Max got a swimsuit.
6. We went on vacation. (In progress)

There are a few other posts that I'll be finishing up and adding in real time, because they didn't seem chronologically significant. (So if you notice Max's teeth randomly falling out and re-appearing, or his hair growing with bizarre speed, don't be concerned.) It'll all work out in the end.

Halloween

Halloween was fun this year. Max totally "got" trick-or-treating this time, and his excitement was rather contagious.

(Plus, he loved his costume -- Steve from Blue's Clues, who else??)


We walked around with him for about an hour. (Or I should say, we followed him for about an hour!) He was on a mission -- cutting through yards, scooting past small children, stomping up porch steps, eagerly gathering treats.

We reminded him repeatedly, "Walk! Stay on the sidewalk! Only ONE! Say 'thank you!'" And though he would forget intermittently, he would get back on track and followed through amazingly well. Actually, the biggest problem turned out to be that whenever he spotted a live flame, he tried to blow it out. (He did manage to at a couple of houses.)

He managed this long walk ALONE -- passed the test with flying colors.

He loved watching the kids walk by, and would get up verrrrry close and curious with the little ones.

Ben's brother and friend posed in character...and Max followed their lead.

The moving decorations were favorites of his, too -- he would try to peek under ghost sheets or stick his hand in the rattling bones or poke the moving eyeball. But we were never far behind and kept him moving along.

He loved this interactive candy bowl. The hand flipped down and startled him again and again.

He was thrilled every time we encountered someone he knew. He was greeted with "Hi, Max!" many times throughout the night, and loved telling everyone he was Steve.

We found Sissy!

Suddenly, Max announced that he was all done. He was satisfied and ready to start eating!

It was a fun night.

Wordless Wednesday: Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinah. UNSUPERVISED.

Wordless Wednesday: Clipper Danger

7 vs. 8

I'm having a hard time seeing Max as eight.

As I watched Max today, I realized that there's a reason besides "birthday grief" that I'm having trouble calling him 8. It's a very simple reason, too.

He looks like a 7.

His body continues to grow (and his facial features do, too), though his head doesn't change much. So there's that. And there's also the fact that the gap between his chronological age and "age-appropriate" behaviors continues to widen each year, so that things that were more easily overlooked in a two-year-old version of Max become glaringly obvious in his 8-year-old self.

When people ask his age now, and I reply, "He's eight," there is a pause that occurs while their wheels begin to spin...and it feels like that pause is now lasting a few beats longer than it did before.

These things are all true, and I could easily go on, but what I'm trying to say is much more literal than that.

I really mean HE LOOKS LIKE A 7!

Seven is all angles and edges and lines and corners, slightly off-balance & a bit awkward. It's long and thin and sharp. It's bendy and tilted and seems to be perpetually aiming somewhere, hurtling towards a vague place just over there. Even in stillness, 7 implies motion. It's hard to capture and difficult to split. It's easily misread. Seven is odd.

But 8? Eight is round and smooth and even. It's perfectly proportioned and bubbling with symmetry. 8 is chubby and full, like babies, Buddha, fresh warm zweibach. It's quiet and still, poised and straight, endlessly balanced, Zen. 8 is easy to dissect and examine, mathematically and visually. 8 is complete, full-circle, finished (twice!) -- and when it gently lies down to sleep, it promises infinity. Eight is whole.

I often look for signs or symbolism that isn't really there. And when I see it, I want to believe it.

So today I'm wondering -- could it really be that simple? Is 8 a sign of things to come?

Magic 8 Ball Wisdom