Thirteen months with metal in his ears

Hi

I’m Scott and today I am 13 months old. I celebrated by getting some grommets put in my ears, ‘cause I’m totally over being sick all the time. My mom reckons I look better already, and I flirted outrageously with all the nurses!

Last night I took some decent steps, but walking is not yet my chief means of transport.

Mom’s prayers for me today are from Romans 13 – that I would ‘put on the shining armour of right living’ (verse 12) and ‘clothe [myself] with the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ’ (verse 14). I think she’s quite ambitious because I can’t clothe myself at all yet, but I guess she knows that Jesus can do anything in my life.

Here are some pictures of me lately.

This is me and my brother bathing in the garden.

This is me playing the piano.

This is my brother playing drums on my head.

This is me exploring the hospital today.

 

(I did not pick this outfit. They made me wear it.)

Warning: this parent is about to self-destruct

Yesterday, Cam and Scott would have done well to sell me to passing traders. Or see what I’d fetch on eBay.

After a ridiculous night I spent another early morning at the emergency rooms with Scott. Antibiotic course number three in as many weeks. But we hold out for Thursday when Dr du Plessis will work his magic and give us the gift of grommets.

Later, after Cam’s swimming lesson, Scott vomited in the car. At this point I was fragile, but still vertical.

But wait, folks. That’s not all.

Cam refused to do OT with Samantha. He poured juice all over the lounge and spat in her hair. Wow, what a proud moment for me as a parent. A real highpoint. Samantha felt so sorry for me she went and bought us supper.

Murray got home and had the Serious Talk (my smacks and timeouts had proven fruitless in terms of eliciting true repentance). The Ruling: no Milo, no TV, no bath toys for a week. A calm, mannerly demeanour was restored. Cam recited his entire Snowstorm book and was annoyingly, unbearably cute. He even spoke perfect Afrikaans for part of the evening and argued that humidifiers could be considered a form of transport.

Then Scott vomited in his bed. And I found half a Marie biscuit stuck to the inside of my pyjamas. I did not put it there.

‘Humble yourselves before the Lord…’ – James 4:10

Ok… Got it.

Naked musicians and other things I love

Here are 10 things I love today:

1.       I love that some of the musicians in our house like to play naked.

2.       I love that there are little fingerprints all over my laptop screen.

3.       I love that Cameron and Scott took 45 minutes to fall asleep at Coral and Toby’s place last night, because they were wrestling and tackling and giggling (Cam and Scott. Not Coral and Toby.)

4.       I love that our boys clap wildly in church even if no one else is clapping.

5.       I love the way Cam answers in full sentences.

6.       I love that there is a time to be clean and a time to eat chocolate cupcakes.

7.       I love Isaiah 45:9-12. Wow. It’s meant a lot to me again this week.

8.       I love that Scott goes ‘Aarrrgh’ like a pirate when he’s very excited.

9.       I love the ‘When-do-I-love-you?-Always!’ game that we play with Cam.

10.   I love that God holds Cam and Scott in the hollow of his hand. And that he’s also holding the universe.

‘Praise him for his mighty works; praise his unequalled greatness!’ – Psalm 150:2

Twelve lines about life in our house

Scott

He’s delightfully

Naughty! Always climbing and

Covered in bruises!

Cam

He thinks about things:

Asks astute questions; wants a

Full explanation…

Afro

My Dad has all sorts

Of weird stuff in his cupboard!

I really dig him.

Patience

Our Lola lies still

And she lets us climb on her –

Our soft, living couch. 

A kingdom close to the ceiling

There’s something thrilling about sleeping high up, whether you have perfect depth perception or not. We got bunk beds for the boys and Cam is irrepressibly excited about his new land at the top of the world, from which he can even touch the dragon and giraffes that hang from the light fitting.

Scott’s cot (which has had babies from our wider family sleeping in it for 18 years) was lugged upstairs. We’re just waiting to pass it on… J

The best part about the new beds was that both boys slept through…! (Insert: huge, happy sigh.)

Other things to celebrate:

1.       Scott now has a will of his own, in case there was any doubt, and he is beginning to express clear opinions on various aspects of life. Like yelling furiously unless he gets to hold two spoons at once, so that he can achieve maximum yoghurt smearage in his hair. This morning, he sussed out a vase of flowers which he clearly wanted to manhandle in some way. He surmised that said flowers were out of reach. He pushed a suitcase across the floor and up to the table, stood on it, and began pulling off petals. I am suitably alarmed.

2.       Cam is a rehabilitated pyromaniac, and we believe that he is no longer a danger to himself or society. Read about it here.

‘In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe.’ – Psalm 4:8

Some things and all things

Some things can’t be explained

Scott used to love bathing. Then, for three months, he screamed uncontrollably all through bath time. Then he turned one, and that same week he just started totally loving his bath again. Overnight. Just like that. I’ll never know why. It’s not a big deal. It just makes me wonder.

‘The LORD our God has secrets known to no one. We are not accountable for them, but we and our children are accountable forever for all that he has revealed to us, so that we may obey all the terms of these instructions.’ – Deuteronomy 29:29

Some things can be explained

Scott stands at the toilet, hand poised at the flusher. He stares me down. Flirtatious, charming, impish.

‘No!’ I say firmly. ‘Don’t flush!’

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink, holds my stare with a smile. His hand inches closer… He flushes.

Human nature.

Sin.

Explicable.

‘Even from birth the wicked go astray; from the womb they are wayward…’ – Psalm 58:3

Some things are hilarious

Cam, ever the optimist with high expectations, is trying to teach Scott to talk. He ran up to him this morning and asked exuberantly, ‘Scott, can you say pedestrian?’

Last week he asked me for clarification on the difference between conversation, competition and combination. Then he asked me if I would be enjoying a conversation over dinner… Gosh. Alrighty then.


'You have taught children and infants to tell of your strength, silencing your enemies and all who oppose you.' - Psalm 8:2

Some things worry me

Like being back at the emergency rooms this morning at 4:00am. Scott has had back-to-back ear infections. I think his immune system is striking. And yet he’s such a hardcore little man – beguiles the nursing sisters and smiles through the agony and the nasty tasting muti. Mommy’s little champion.

‘Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy! I look to you for protection. I will hide beneath the shadow of your wings until the danger passes by.’ – Psalm 57:1

All things are summed up in Christ

‘…and through him God reconciled everything to himself.’ – Colossians 1:20

Letter for Cam at jacaranda time

Dear Cam

Yesterday you asked me, ‘What’s that smell?’ and I said, ‘Rain.’ And I felt as if my spirit was ‘leaping greenly’ like the trees in the e.e. cummings poem, because you have such a gift for noticing beauty and goodness, and your zest makes it easy for me to abandon myself to God’s deluge of blessings. No matter what I’m worrying about, you inspire me to fling it aside and be present for the sheer loveliness of a particular moment.

So, I wrote these haikus, because the jacarandas are flowering all over the city, and because I love you immeasurably. To give you a context: your day was filled with spilling coffee on our sheets, school, picking lavender and watching out for bees, walking down to Aunty Mel for tea, a tantrum and a smack and time out, fish fingers and chips, shopping with me and Dad (mountains of groceries, you singing and Scott taking off his kit in the trolley…), home and Friday peace and the wind billowing the blinds in beautiful summer gusts and sleep.

An ordinary treasured day

The air smells like dust

And purple and the torment

Of promised rain: peace.

It will be the same

Next year – purple streets, dusty

Rain – but you will not.

We won’t have this day

Again: next purple season

You’ll be different: big.

I don’t wish away

This time: I save it all up

Store you in my heart

All my love

Mom

xx