One of the very hardest things for me right now is writing. Whether it’s finding the time, or finding the desire when I have the time, or finding the words once I have the desire and the time…you get the picture. I’ll lay most of the blame at Elvie Kate’s [tiny, adorable, pink] feet, though I’ll blame myself a bit too, and other life circumstances, and then I’ll throw my hands in the air (full of confetti, of course) because no one’s to blame, and I why do I keep trying to find reasons to place blame upon?
We’re moving in less than a month, and I’ve packed one box. It’s of Elvie Kate’s things–decor from her nursery and clothes she can’t wear yet–I have no idea where to start, but I do know that I can work with a much clearer mind when I’m right up on a deadline, so I’m not rushing quite yet to push through the muddled fog that are my mental processes at the moment. I’m just trying to get caught up on the laundry first.
In the meantime I am dreaming of forgetting things in various rooms but not having to climb stairs to go get them (new house is a ranch style) and not driving down our street to find the neighbors have parked three cars deep in the cup-de-sac again. Also trying to grab every moment left with our friends here, and saying yes often, while we still can.
We’re overdue for an update, So here’s life lately.
Ephraim is the quintessential Big Brother, silly yet incredibly serious and burdened with the welfare of all of his siblings (whether they want to be looked after or not.) He’s the protector, the referee, the taskmaster; he is prone to delegating the tasks I’ve specifically given to him. He is very much like me in that he struggles with perseverance and quitting when things get too hard. I am thankful for the lessons because through teaching him I am also teaching myself. He is like a mirror I look into–I mean to write about that in detail one day.
Clive has moved up in rank, though I don’t think he’s aware of it yet. He’s gone from Middlest Child to Second In Command, a role I’m sure he’ll appreciate more as he gets older. He and Ephraim are the best of friends and the worst of enemies, depending on how much delegating Ephraim is doing; he is enthralled heart-and-soul with his baby sister and remains deeply suspicious of Anselm, who is an expert toy-snatcher and has developed a keen interest in Lightning McQueen, Clive’s very, very favorite toy(s). Clive is deeply sensitive and thoughtful in a way I still can’t fathom no matter how hard I try, and I intend to write on that in detail some day as well.
Anselm has managed his promotion admirably well, and still hasn’t tried to poke Elvie Kate’s eyes out or pull her hair (of course she hasn’t much hair, so that helps) or any other things that a just-turned-two-year-old might try on his new baby sister. He also hasn’t really displayed much jealousy or anything of that nature. He’s talking more and mimicking his Big Brothers’ speech and play something chronic; he is clever and witty and incredibly quick to laugh. He’s also very mischievous, something that’s always seemed part of his character, though I think it owes to the fact that he’s the third-born as well, and I intend to write on that in detail also.
Elvie Kate is growing like a weed, changing every day in looks and behavior and habits and outfits and in every other way you can possibly change as a seven-week-old. She is the proud owner of some serious cheeks and chins; she is sensitive like Clive and expressive like Ephraim, and she must be mischievous like Anselm because she is incredibly adept at filling her diaper just as soon as I’ve put a clean one on her, and I don’t intend to write on that in detail, a fact for which you may thank me later.