The freedom of Spring

It seems spring has officially arrived and I couldn't be more thrilled. Little boys weren't meant to be inside for months at a time and bundling up 3 little boys (socks, boots, pants, shirt, coat, mittens, and hat), just to have them be too freezing and want to come inside again after 5 minutes was a ritual that got old back in December. I love the days of t-shirts, shorts and sandals. Taylor and Noah have extremely chubby feet, so it's been a chore to find shoes that they can squeeze into.

Spring means freedom to me and my boys. To me its freedom from having to bundle, from cranky boys who are sick of me and each other (or just sick) and days idly spent. Freedom to go yardsaling on Saturday mornings and listen to whatever I want to on the radio as I do so, freedom from pregnancy (hooray). To the boys it's freedom from this house and shoes (sometimes clothes) and a cranky mom.

Apparently Noah has taken the idea of "freedom" to an unhealthy level. When I went in to get him from his nap today he'd shed his diaper and he stood all nakie. He timidly pointed out that he'd done on his pillow what he should have done in his diaper. I could tell he wasn't exactly remorseful about it...gross Noah. But he's so darn cute I can hardly stand it.

Oh, and speaking of nudity...when a woman from church stopped by this morning with a blanket for Austin she was greeted by two diapered boys and a completely naked Jack. I was still in pajamas. Uh. What do you say? "OH, yeah, well, this is pretty much who we are right now. Just don't tell my mom." She was really nice about it. Had she come in, she would have seen my house was actually clean and that I'd just mopped the floor. As it was she only had a limited view on my life and it wasn't pretty. Ah, well...

As I type this, Jack, Tays, and Noah are all out picking dandelions in their bare feet and roaring at any birds that come to our trees. They frantically began picking grass and putting it in a pile on the dirt. When I asked what they were doing, Jack told me "we're covering up that mean ant."

Taylor is terrified of ants. He cried out to me with sincere panic in his voice and I ran outside to find him straddling the door of the little "Kangaroo Climber" with his feet off the ground. He was nearly in tears as he said "that ant chasing me." Taylor is a "cautious" child who often says "it's too scary for me." He doesn't like swings or sitting on countertops or going upstairs alone. He loves dogs, but only from a good distance. And obviously he is afraid of bugs. It's sortof endearing to me that he is this way. I tried to explain that these ants aren't mean and if we just leave them alone they won't hurt us. No need to fear. But I said it only half-heartedly because I'm a little afraid he'll be bitten one of these days and never trust another word I say.

I'm dying for a camera...

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