then they became friends...

More than once this past week Tony and I caught each other, mouths open, staring stunned at Alex and Amabelle. Just a few weeks ago and practically every day for the previous year, 1/2 of all interactions between our A babies ended the same way - with Amabelle in a puddle of tears on the floor, and Alex either a) rolling over her, b) climbing on her, c) running gleefully away with her blanket/stuffed animal/hairbrush/shoe/special rock or d) pummeling her with the same item.  This resulted in a fantastically melodramatic reaction from Belle.  The particulars would change, but the premise went something like this:  (gasp, sob, tears!) ALEX TOOK MY BLANKET AND HE THINKS IT'S HIS!  HE'S GOING TO TAKE IT OUTSIDE AND IT WILL BLOW IN THE STREET AND THEN A TRUCK WILL COME AND RUN IT OVER AND I'LL NEVER EVER HAVE MY BLANKET AGAIN! (gasp, sob tears!)  Because of Alex, Belle and her blanket were never, ever, ever getting back together... like ever.  (Thanks Taylor Swift).

a song of summer

I have never figured out how it happens... after years of trying... I blink my eye once in June and when I open them it's the end of September.  Nearly 3 months have passed since I last wrote of life here at 1010 Rosebud.  Nearly 3 months of giggles, tears, milestones, and thrown stones.    Wasn't it only yesterday that Bella was bouncing high on Uncle Adam and Aunt Laura's trampoline?  Somehow when she landed she was back in preschool and months away from carefree summer evenings.  Time flies in the blink of an eye.  And though it was never my intention to allow such a long lapse in writing about our lives, I must say that at least part of my absence was somewhat intentional.  It occurred to me somewhere along the way that it was possible that my writing about my four little loves may actually be getting in the way of me actually being with them.  My desire to capture every nuance of their lives became another "have to" that sapped at least some of the joy of just watching.  Just listening.  Just being.