It is the month of February, and I was inspired to learn more about Shakespeare finding it an appropriate time to expound on love. Randomly flipping through the pages I landed on this, Sonnet #116, by William Shakespeare.



Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments; love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

He had a way with words, didn’t he?

Oh, February. It has been a while and, unfortunately, I have not been keeping up with pictures or unforgettable quotes (by Isabel.) There have been quite a few that I wish I could remember and I’m pretty sure some of them included the word, “actually.” It is the word du jour.

I do want to make note of something she said to me while we walked to church on Sunday. It is a quote I should remind myself of during my trough moments in child-rearing. We crossed the street and by default she walked along the outside of the sidewalk. I said, “Isabel, come stand on this side of me.” “Why?” she asked. And I told her, “because if a car comes I want it to hit me first.” “But I don’t want it to hit you.” “And I don’t want it to hit you,” I said. And she ended with, “But I don’t want it to hit you because I love you.” That right there is worth it all.

No sassiness here...

While out and about I came across the jacket you see her wearing here. I immediately loved it (and totally would have bought one for myself if it came in my size) and thought, “I can do a shoot of her in this!” I found a matching dress: an over the top sequined camouflage dress – a 6T by the way that barely covered her tooshie – and what are designers thinking when designing for kids??? Last night before bed she came to me and said, “I want to wear that dress to school tomorrow, I think Teacher Nancy will like it.”

If you know me, I was a little nervous about the idea. Oooh, what will the parents think of me? I could barely bring myself to wear something like that! Of course, part of me said, “yeah, let’s do it! I love the spunk!” Well, I’ve mellowed a bit since my youth (sigh) but I didn’t want to stop her courageous displays of Brewster-ness. So I said, “okay.”

This morning I heard her pitter-patter to our bed and she whispered, “Momma, where are my new clothes? I want to put them on.” She NEVER wants to get dressed in the morning. This was something special. And if you’ve seen how she normally dresses herself – tank tops over long sleeves, polka dot shorts over neon-striped pants, perhaps with cowboy boots or sandals over socks – you would know this was atypical. She put the outfit on, played outside, got the sequins snagged – after which I spent half an hour fixing it – and then did some valentine painting. All in her new dress and jacket. Yes, momma was a wee bit paranoid.

Well, we went to school and eventually Teacher Nancy came up to me and said, “that’s quite the outfit Isabel has on.” Her goal was achieved. And I think the combo was a hit.

She also promised that she would let me take pictures of her if she could wear the outfit today. And I totally believed her.

Other than that, she’s the same little spunky girl who speaks with quite a bit of clarity.

She told her Uncle Lulu that something was moving in her ear. I started to check it out and told her I will get a flashlight. “Oh, I’m okay, Mom, I’m okay, it’s alright.” She doesn’t deal with problems very well and prefers to be the tough kid. I continued my search for light nonetheless and after giving up decided to stick a q-tip in there. If you get queasy don’t read on, but here’s how it went.

There was wet wax, mmm-mmmm. A lot of it. I told her I think I see the ball (gulp) and kept asking her if she can feel it moving. Instead of answering that question she said, “I can’t hear anymore.” Great! That’s exactly what a mom armed with q-tips wants to hear. When I plugged her other ear and asked her if she could hear me she said, “No, I can’t hear you.” Good in one sense, bad in another.

So, we went to the tubes (hubby calls the net the inter-tubes) and found an article on declogging ear wax. Tip #1: NEVER STICK A Q-TIP inside the ear. D’oh! (This is coming from someone who used to stick toothpicks and unraveled paper clips into her ears – ouch!) There was a picture of a giant ball of ear wax and I said, “Gross!”

When I laid Isabel to bed she said, “Momma, why was there a ball in his ear?” I explained why. “Why did you say ‘gross?'” Oops, I had to be tactful here. “Oh, it happens all the time, especially to kids, it’s nothing special or terrible. Don’t worry.” And then she said, “I don’t think my ball will come out.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because it’s like a meatball inside my ear, it won’t fit.”

I love this girl.

He hasn't changed much since this was taken.

I don’t have a current picture of the little guy. He was too busy digging in dirt piles. He still wants to talk but falls back on screaming and crying instead. At least we now understand his babble and body language: “A-bel” means Isabel; “ta-da” means thank you; “ca-ca” with an emphatic body shake means chocolate; body thrust means yes; vehemently shaking his head means no; a hoarse throaty sound means pig; “ba” can mean a slew of things from bird, banana, bath, ball, bottle; and crying and screaming means he’s upset. The latter is usually accompanied by him storming off into a corner or behind a curtain somewhere.

Tomi is a very particular little boy. In the future I can see this being a good thing. You know, for things like choosing a girl, for example. But right now it is just a source of gray hairs. We cannot wait until he learns to speak.

The two of them get along really well. In this we could not ask for a better relationship. (Thank you, thank you!) They still both like to [pretend to] pummel me and wrestle with me. It is great fun. Although the elbows and knees of a 46-lb girl are starting to make me flinch now. We dance every day, most often to the popular request of “Made in Italy,” either the original or the 102.7 dance version, and you just can’t keep a frown in that atmosphere. Thomas’ form of dancing is pretty limited – turns in circles – but full of passion.

And with that, I will say good night.

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